Swear Not By The Moon
by KitCatesby
Summary: "Love is a plague that is so intoxicating that you drown in that person. Love is daring to go behind friends backs, loving only in the dark of a heated room. Love is still feeling passionate towards someone that has just killed you." MercutioxTybalt. 'M'
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: LOL. I can't even read it clearly without messing up. If I owned this . . . things would go down _**

**I probably won't be saying much during writing this :) I'm really excited about new chapters and sometimes I don't want to say anything. BUT I STILL LOVE YOU GUYS!**

**Tybalt: Can we just go on with the story?**

**Mercutio: Hold on dear Tybalt! Curiosity killed the cat, you know? Of course you know! You ARE the cat after all.**

**Tybalt: . . .**

**Mercutio: OH. WHAT NOW.**

**THE SONG TO LISTEN TO IS IN THIS LINK COPY AND PASTE: **.com/watch?v=LBZdF_1nrRE&feature=channel_video_title

**It's Regret Message Piano by Rin Kagamine  
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**oOo**

PROLOGUE

**oOo**

_It hurt._

_It dug deeper than any insult; it lodged itself further into my heart than the blade that was there right now. I looked up into his face, saw the realization, the stun, the panic, the agony in his eyes as he saw what he had done. _

_Why?_

_He'd hate himself for this. I knew he would. He needed to hear me say it; he needed to hear me tell him that I didn't blame him. He needed to come to my aid, to lay with me while I died. To scream to everyone in Verona that he was mine and I was once his. _

_As my legs go weak and I fall on Romeo's arm for support, I see that agony blossom into pure torture and anguish. His eyes speak his words, his lips moving but no sound coming out. 'Mercutio . . . I . . . never . . .'_

_I mumble something, but even I couldn't tell what I said. His men around him began to grab him; begin to grab my Tybalt and take him away from me. He protests, but is shaking with shock. It hasn't set in yet for him the same as it has not set in yet for me. _

"_No," He murmurs to his men, "I-," they pull him away. My Tybalt. Pulling him away. Come back. Lover, please. I beseech you, dear Capulet. It's cold, get me out of here, Tybalt. There's people everywhere. They keep laughing at me . . . Tybalt. I stumble around, trying to get to the stairs . . . trying to get to the top so I could hopefully find my lost Tybalt. _

_I see Romeo and stagger to him. "Why the devil came you between us?"_

"_I-I thought only for the best . . . I-,"_

"_I was hurt under your arm." I thought someone should know how it happened. Perhaps someone could relay it to Tybalt so that he didn't feel he was to blame. _

_Going up the stairs was so excruciating that my knees shook, much like they used to when in his presence, being pushed into sheets by dominance, being smothered with kisses, drowning in hunger. Whispering his name into his neck, moaning, groaning, whimpering . . . _

_I swallow. _

_The blood pumps out of my wound as I climb. 'Tybalt. Find Tybalt.'_

_But he is gone once I get up to the top. Looking down at the Montagues bellow me and seeing stray Capulets every here and there, I scream._

"_A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES!" _

_For love is a plague that is so intoxicating that you drown in that person, loving every aspect. Love is daring to go behind friends backs, loving only in the dark of a heated room. Love is sitting in his lap while he reads in the early morning hours, your face nestled faultlessly into the curve of his skin while you breathed in his scent, for it is chilly and he wanted to keep you warm. Love is still feeling passionate towards someone that has just killed you. _

_My heart bleeds for him; I know him well enough to know he might kill himself for me. Please, love, live on. _

"_Tybalt," I whisper as I fall. It was my last word, but life is cruel enough to let me live long enough to see my corpse being carried to the castle steps. Cruel enough to let me stay long enough to see my uncle looking down at me in despair. Cruel enough . . . _

_. . . to make me watch Tybalt be laid out beside me, cold and bleeding and dead by my best friend's hand. _


	2. Chapter 2

**oOo**

CHAPTER 1

**oOo**

"What are you saying?"

The servant shuffled his feet a little, straightening up but not making eye contact. I watched him, my eyes narrowing. My uncle and father were both men of royalty and neither of the two could come and tell me themselves this news? I felt something in me bend, ready to break.

"Your father has chosen a bride for you. She's very lovely, sir. She stopped by just yesterday while you were out and had tea with the prince to discuss the arrangement. Your guardians think it would be wise to marry her." The servant finished with a shaky smile.

Furious, I hissed, "You mean to say that they chose my bride without my consent? I don't _need_ a wife! I don't _need _love!" my teeth were being clenched, my eyes so fury-shot that the servant backed up a step.

"Mercutio," a voice from behind made me stop seething. I turned on my heel to see my father and uncle walking towards me, down the long staircase. "That is enough."

"Father," I announced, anger coming back to me, "I refuse to marry a stranger. I refuse to marry _at all." _

My father boomed suddenly, "You have no right to refuse! As long as you are under this roof and as long as you are in this family you will obey my orders." His eyes, cold as ever, bored into me, but I stood my ground. My uncle continued to say nothing.

"For most of my life, Father, you haven't visited more than once or twice every five months. And now you come into Uncle's city and decide to become a parent?"

This earned me a well-practiced smack across my cheek. The servant to my side yelped a little and my Uncle's eyes grew faintly wider. Father stood there, closer now, blonde hair falling in his black eyes. My cheek stung, but I fought the urge to hit him back. If I attacked him . . . the consequences were high. I preferred verbal abuse ambushes; I was more skilled in that than physical hits.

"I see." I muttered into the silence. My father's rage was still burning in his onyx eyes.

With not another word, I shoved past him and bounded up the stairs. There were so many of them, shiny and white and marble. The whole house without them did not cost as much as they did alone. The chandeliers were so bright, shining down in crystal waves. It was beautiful, making every bit of expensive furniture in the house look costly.

It disgusted me.

Everything seemed so lovely and warm and at-home but it was anything but that. My whole life, the only father figure I had was my Uncle and he wasn't good at this either. I was raised by him, in a royal manner. I was taught to do everything perfectly, but I despised the title and the reputation I got with it.

Going to my room's window, I looked down into the streets of Verona. It was a dark day, the clouds laid low in the sky, gray and threatening for a storm. I watched as the flowers in the royal garden lost a few petals in the wind, fluttering into the streets.

My future wife had come here? To talk about becoming my bride? How much about me had she been told? How many false lies were put in her head? Did Father and Uncle tell her I was a suitable respectful man? A gentleman? Ha! She'd learn. I'd make her learn. I have no use for love; no use for her.

**oOo**

"Marrying? How were you thrown into this idea?" Benvolio asked in shock. Romeo's eyes had gone wide and a congratulating smile. They both seemed to be happy for me, in a sideways manner. They knew I didn't want a relationship in my life, but being the friends they were, they were joyous for me either way.

I felt ill.

"Thrown is an understatement," I bark, dipping my head into the fountain. They stood by me awkwardly, not saying anything but just watching. "I'm being forced to love someone I've never met before. How fate shines on those who prod at it . . . I'll never understand what I did to deserve this."

"Tis not so bad," Romeo stated, "At least she's been said to be a nice girl. What is her name?"

I had asked Uncle this morning. "Katrina." I breathed into the water fountain.

"That's a lovely name!"

I spat at Benvolio, "What does a name have to do with the person?"

Romeo groaned from behind. He must have thought about how Rosaline was a Capulet. Everything in all of Verona revolved around him, didn't it? Benvolio said to him, "Don't fret Romeo! I'm sure Rosaline loves you as much as you do her."

And now my problems were a thing of the past. The world's spotlight had moved to its main character, Romeo, and abandoned me. I considered drowning myself in the constant flow of water on my head.

"Ah, what's this? Verona's clown and a couple of Montagues?"

I knew that voice all too well, making me tense up. I slowly took my head out of the water, turning to see Tybalt Capulet standing there, surrounded by his crowd. They all mimicked his smirk, hands on their rapiers and eyes looking down at me.

"What's wrong Mercutio? Are you in so desperate need of a bath?" Tybalt jested, his sneer widening. His men broke into harsh chuckles, but Romeo and Benvolio frowned. They knew what was coming.

"Aw," I mused with a grin, "Is the cat jealous that he cannot bathe? Don't fret the water, feline, I'm sure you smell by now."

His men smiled, even if the joke was from me. Several '_oohs' _where heard rotating around the dark-haired man as he glowered at me. "You're cat jokes have their expiration dates, clown."

"As do your clown puns," I smirk foolishly, shaking the water out of my hair. It sprayed out at him and he stood there, shocked, drenched. I smile wider, "So I can say things like, 'Ah me, the cat just got wet' and it be absolutely fair."

Suddenly, he growled and lunged for me, not even bothering to un-sheave his weapon. Caught a little off guard, I didn't have time to catch him before he plummeted into me, knocking me to the ground. Benvolio and Romeo dove in to assist me, but were held back by Tybalt's men.

His weight crushed me against the stone, his grip on my shirt tight as his reeled back a fist. His men and my friend were fighting now, and some stray passerbys joined to help. I wasn't expecting Tybalt to actually hit me. We had shared many insults in the past, jesting here and there, but never really attacking. Perhaps I had caught him at a bad time of his day, in a sour mood.

It hurt.

His fist crashed into my jaw and I felt it pop. Grunting, I found my hands and reached for his neck. Chocking him before he could get another hit in, I switched our positions and drew back his head to smack it against the street. He was strong, though, and was able to hold me back from doing so, we stayed there, clenching and chocking and attempting and failing, while the brawls around us got even more violent than ours.

"Blast it, clown!" I heard Tybalt growl. He managed to land a clawed hand into the side of my neck, the blood rising quickly. Snarling in pain, I yanked him up off the ground and slammed my skull into his. It was the only thing I could do to get even with him in this position, but it rattled my brain and made my temples throb. He and I both yelled out, going dizzy. I fell to my side, less affected by it than he was. Tybalt, on the other hand, clutched his head and moaned, eyes squeezed shut.

"HA! That's what the bad cat gets for scratching its master!" it didn't occur to me until Tybalt's eyes shot open and we stared at each other in a dumbfounded silence, that I'd basically said he was bad and mine. For an instant, I blushed a bit, but it soon vanished and I was wobbling to my feet.

Laughing shakily, I watched him try to do the same. Once we were both fairly steady again, we reached for our rapiers-

"**HALT! THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!**"

Freezing, I felt my hand go limp on my weapon's handle. Tybalt, however, went for his weapon anyway and swung it over his head to hit me. My Uncle withdrew his sword from atop his horse and '_CLANGED'_ it against the rapier. Tybalt, astonished, was lost for a second. "Put your blade down, boy."

Tybalt did as he was told, humiliated.

"DISPERSE!" Uncle screamed, making everyone jump. Romeo and Benvolio shot me a scared glance, but left anyway. "You two," the prince said, looking down at Tybalt and me sternly, "I saw that it was you who started this. You always do! Both of you come with me, you're to be punished for this," here he looked at me, "Whether you like it or not."

**oOo**

Arms crossed, one leg thrown over the other, and with a face that could restrain the devil, I awaited my sentence. Uncle was pacing the large office room without a word. Tybalt sat beside me hands on his knees, back straight and face stony. He seemed to be taking this more seriously than I was, for he did not bounce his leg like I did and he was not glaring.

Heh.

"This is the fourth time this month." Uncle said, monotone, "How many more times after this one will there be?"

"None." Tybalt answered suddenly and seriously.

"Oh quiet you!" my uncle hissed at Tybalt. I jumped slightly and Tybalt winced.

"Sir-?"

"I saw what happened! You were the first to attack Mercutio! Don't try and act innocent."

Tybalt's demeanor fell a bit, his eyes searching for something to stare at. I shivered a little when he chose my bloodied scratched neck to do so.

"You should be ashamed for attacking someone with only two men to back him up." Uncle said bluntly.

I smiled, just a little, at Tybalt's scolding. I was caught, though.

"And you." Uncle turned to me now, eyes deep and dark with disappointment. "I've taught you better, that much I know. You shouldn't provoke and you won't be scarred like this!" He reached for and touched my scratch and I flinched, recoiling from his touch.

Tybalt saw this.

"I assure you, My Lord, this will never happen again."

My Uncle's head turned in Tybalt's direction. "I should hope not, for your sakes."

A lethal hush filled the room, leaving me to stare at Tybalt's left hand on his left knee while he stared at my scraped neck.

"As punishment," My Uncle started. We both glanced up at him hesitantly. "You will both be rearranging and tidying up the royal library."

By the look on Tybalt's face, he thought this was an odd punishment. It didn't seem to fit the crime that we had done and he thought that he was getting mercy from the prince. I, on the other hand, stiffened on cue and felt my mouth fall open a little. The royal library consisted of two floors of the mansion, aisles upon aisles of shelves. It would take three to two weeks tops to get the first floor done. I almost protested.

But . . . not because the work would take that long. No, I could handle that to a degree. It meant not having to deal with Romeo and his drama and love life. I could handle that. No, because I had to spend a month or two of working alone with Tybalt.

**oOo**


	3. Chapter 3

**oOo**

CHAPTER 2

**oOo**

I took a dusty book of the shelf and used my index finger to draw a cat head on the cover. Looking at it hatefully, I used my thumb to draw a big 'X' over it before smudging it out altogether.

Tybalt was on the other side of the bookcase, thudding around. We didn't speak. I had finished the top three rows of the shelf, standing on a roll ladder to do so. Even though I had to be about twenty feet up, I could not see the Capulet on the other end. I had many books to go, some of them incredibly heavier than I could hold.

Pulling one of them off the shelf, I began to dust it when I realized the author's name started with a 'H'. This was the 'C' section, so I was forced to break the silence. "Tybalt." I called out dully. He made a grunting sound that must have been a 'What?'.

"I have a book that's in the wrong spot." I sighed. In a sense, it felt good to not be humorous for a change. Around Tybalt where there was no audience, I didn't feel like I had to try and be funny or comical. Tybalt hated me and I hated him so it was mutual.

He soon rounded the corner, looking for me until he realized I was towering over him. This just proved how much we tried to avoid each other; he didn't even know where in the room I resided.

"Toss it down, then."

I sent him a glower. "If I throw it down, it will kill you. It's heavy."

He gave me a look that said it all. I muttered curses under my breath and began to walk down the ladder, carefully. It was swaying back and forth slightly, making me uneasy.

When I was at handing distance, I let him have it. My arm was shaking from the wait and I had to clutch the ladder tightly to steady myself. Yet Tybalt took the book and passed it from hand to hand with ease, raising a brow at me. I glared.

Hours passed by but I only scooted seven feet from where I was. Momentarily I was still on the ladder, twenty feet above the ground. I found a book of a deep crimson color and opened it up. I read aloud, to Tybalt on the other end side of the shelf,

"_My sin is not to be spoken_

_Words of lust whispered in haste_

_This secrecy was meant to be broken_

_But my mind cannot yet erase your taste_

_So under your body, tonight, I will breathe_

_For your love is the only punishment I dare face_

_Under disgusted faces, I will seethe_

_As they show me the fault of your embrace."_

Almost as if he hadn't heard me, Tybalt continued to stack books on the other side of the shelf. I read over the poem again, imagining what sin could come from a woman and man loving each other. Forbidden love, most likely, for it said 'under your body' and 'the fault of your embrace'. I re-read it again.

"Clown, get back to work." Tybalt grunted from the other side of the book case. I, boldly, stood on the top step of the ladder and looked over to Tybalt. He looked so small from this angle. I enjoyed being able to look down on him so.

"What do you think it means?" I ignored him just as he had ignored the poem.

He hissed at me, "It doesn't matter what it means. We have little time."

I smirked, leaning over the top of the shelf even more. "What's this? Could it be that you've never had a woman underneath you?"

His head shot up and I saw his cheeks heat a little. "Fool! Don't ask absurd questions!" he went back to stacking and dusting books. I leaned over the top closer.

"So you are still a virgin? Ha!" I snickered.

Growling, he snapped at me, "No, actually, I've just never been _in love._ And what about YOU Mercutio? I've never seen you around with a woman."

Irked, I sang back at him, "You're lying. That's why you changed the subject. And for your information, I am one-hundred percent _**experienced**_-," The ladder slipped under my shifted foot and I began to fall forward. Screaming out, I tumbled off the book shelf. The twenty foot fall would kill me surely, so I saw many of my mistakes flash through me. I would die, right here, in front of Tybalt.

"M-Mercu-!" he sputtered. It was the last thing I heard before I closed my eyes and prepared myself for impact with the ground.

**oOo**

. . .

I opened my eyes to see the ceiling of the library, the chandeliers glittering down at me mockingly. For a split second, I expected to see Tybalt saunter up to my limp body, but I soon realized the truth.

Underneath me, his right arm around my waist, his left one holding my head to him, laid Tybalt. He was breathing, that's how I noticed him. Unmovable, I stayed frozen in shock. Surely this was some sick joke. Tybalt Capulet would never save me . . . he hates me and I hate him.

He lets out a small grown that vibrates throughout my back and into my chest.

And then he throws me off of him.

"Oof!" I say, landing on my face beside him. He sits up and cracks his back, rubbing his head.

"You're lucky you're light or I wouldn't have even attempted to catch you. You imbecile . . ." He tried to stand, but fell again, yelping a little. I looked to where he clutched his foot. He must have landed on it wrong. I was shaking so hard from the fear that I had nothing to say to his insult.

"I . . . didn't think I was leaning that far-,"

He scowled when he tried to touch his foot. "Well obviously you were."

He rolled his ankle, trying to regain feeling in it. For a while, I just breathed and tried to think of some way to thank him. I didn't want to. But it was what was needed. I tightened my jaw, "You have my gratitude for that."

He scoffed, finally standing painfully. "You owe me your life now, clown. I expect you to live up to that vow."

My face dropped. "What? No! I owe you noth- . . . well . . . it's not a _vow . . . _but . . . FINE!" I brought myself up to stand, eyes downcast in hatefulness. "But nothing drastic! I'm not going to do all this work by myself, for example."

He pondered on this, looking around at the bookshelves. "Hm. Fair enough. This was both of our punishments so it would only be right for us to do it together." I didn't think Tybalt would be this serious and reasonable, "But you will be running errands for me, serving me for just a month or so."

My mouth dropped, "A _**MONTH?**_ I think not!"

He smirked at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "I saved you from your death. That's the best gift someone can give. I think you owe me a few years of servitude, but I'm being kind."

My eye twitched in annoyance. But I had already said I would do it. I began to retort to his words, but the doors to the library opened. We both jumped a little bit at the sound, however, the doors were blocked by a couple rows of books. "Sir Mercutio?"

It was a maid, timidly sticking her head around the shelf. I couldn't remember her name, but she had been here for a year or two now. She hesitantly walked up to us, not looking us in the eyes as she said, "Lady Katrina is here. She'd like to meet you, if you don't mind. Your Father and Uncle are there as well."

She added the last sentence to ensure I followed her. If I refused . . . well . . . .

Tybalt's eyes were on me as I nodded warily to the maid. She bowed to him before she led me out of the library, away from the books and falling and servitude vows. He'd have questions when I got back; he'd probably make fun of the fact I had an arranged marriage and I, the man and male of the situation, was the one being forced to wed.

**oOo**

When I first saw Katrina, I didn't see anything special. She had long red hair tied up in a bow at the top of her head, her dress was a dark blue color that made her eyes pop, but other than that, she looked just as appealing as any other woman.

Or, perhaps, not appealing in my point of few.

"My Lord," She smiled, stood, and curtsied. I blinked at her for a moment, not intending to say anything had not Father sent me a glare from across the table. I murmured to her, "Good-den."

"Good-den!" she sat down delicately, as if her dress would rip if she sat with too much force. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

After this, she didn't say much for the rest of the conversation. She must have been raised much like I had, in a mansion made of money and ranks but no love or compassion . . . no humor. She listened to my father talk about the date of our marriage, the guests, the décor, then at last the honeymoon.

I had been spinning the spoon in my tea around and around, not really paying much attention. "You will need to carry on the family name, so I hope you two get along well. Mercutio, I've scheduled for you to take her to a theatre, then to a royal resort north of Verona. You know where I'm talking about, of course."

My hand stopped the spoon. I knew what he was talking about all of a sudden and felt my brain buzz. Katrina didn't show any signs of change in her face, continuing to nod in agreement to what Father said.

I tried to picture her body underneath mine, my voice in my ear, her hands trying to grasp at something to hold onto . . . but it didn't excite me in the least bit. Imagining her curves against mine just made me feel embarrassed and uncomfortable . . . I wanted to do something to distract me, perhaps run back to the library and annoy Tybalt.

"Is . . . this all really necessary?" I budged into his speech, "We've only just met and we're talking of honeymoons and carrying on the family name. Isn't it more appropriate that we talk alone first?"

My underlining meaning for wanting to speak alone with her was to disgust her with foolish things I would say. I'd make her recoil from the very thought of marrying me. My father just blinked at me, as if I had said something remotely mature for the first time in my whole life.

"Yes, well, I suppose that can be arranged for another time. Lady Katrina, you must be tired and ready to go back to your abode."

She smiled at him before turning to me with a quirk grin. It made me shiver. There was something off about her that was troubling me. "It was lovely speaking with you, Lord Mercutio. Perhaps our next encounter we will be able to discuss our future more efficiently."

Lovely? Encounter? Efficiently?

I didn't like the way she spoke; so direct and mysterious like she had something planned for me. I forced a tight grin, my lips quivering with the need to frown. After she had left, I sauntered back to the library, opening and closing the doors softly. Tybalt, somehow, heard me come in and appeared from behind one of the many shelves, holding a book he must have been reading.

"Have you been sentenced to death yet?" he smirks, eyes narrowed on me. I gave him a weak stare.

"You could say that."

**oOo**


	4. Chapter 4

**TYBALT'S POV**

**oOo**

CHAPTER 3

**oOo**

I had walked in on a napping Mercutio, laying on one of the sofas in the library. One hand tossed over his eyes to block the light, he snored ever so lightly in the quiet of the shelves. Organized books laid around him in towers upon towers, all in alphabetical order.

He didn't look like he had gone to bed last night.

I studied his work carefully, checking to see if he had really arranged all of these in the correct order. He had done just that to over forty books. I looked around at his work with the feeling of uselessness.

Then, I took the end of my sheave and prodded at his side. "Oi, clown. Wake up."

Ticklish it seemed, he batted at it, groaning with twitching lips that threatened to turn into a smile. Mercutio rolled over on his side, curling into a ball. It amazed me how easy it was for him to do so, even though the couch barely had room. He resumed snoring.

I poked at him again, watching him chuckle through his sleep, calling, "Romeo, Benvolio, stop that. Blast it you two . . . I'll kill you . . . stop . . ."

I wish I had someone else here to witness this. It was hilarious, watching him swat and bat away the sheave. "Mercutio," I called louder this time. "Wake up. We must get to work early so we may leave at noon."

The blonde groaned, coming to the realization I was in the room with him, poking him with a sword sheave while he was surrounded by books. Blue eyes blinked at me sleepily as he rolled over, at last falling off of the sofa.

Hissing in pain, he begrudgingly lifted himself up. "What time is it?"

"Later than most." I answer simply, running a finger of the cover of a book-tower. He watched me before glancing around at his accomplishment.

"I finished all of this last night," he slurred in a sleep-deprived way, "I couldn't sleep."

"I can see that," I said to both statements. I began to pick up a tower in my arms, easily walking over to one of the tables to set it down. He didn't say anything, just watching and sat there. "I don't much care, but in order to keep you from going back to bed . . . why could you not sleep?"

He remained in his mute trance. It was a wonderful change; not hearing his voice if only for a brief fleeting moment. "Personal issues."

"Mercutio." I said bluntly, standing over him, "You are not a man that keeps his mouth shut about something that is _**'personal'**_. You are not a man to keep his mouth shut _at all_ so I suppose you'll tell someone sooner or later. Just spit it out now."

I watched his eyes glow a little, contemplating the turmoil in his head, "Why would I say anything to you?"

It was a good point. I didn't even know why I wanted to know of his problems. But, I was bored senseless in the library, not being able to stop and read anything. I stared at him, flipping a book back and forth in my hands. "I suppose you wouldn't." I knew how Mercutio's mind worked. You had to feed the flame, stroke the curiosity.

There was a lapse of fifteen, perhaps twenty seconds before his mouth had to open. "My Father and Uncle have . . . taken my life into their own hands."

I made a scoffing sound in the back of my throat. "It doesn't sound like you to let them. What happened to the witty fool that defies even the street officials?"

It hadn't registered and wouldn't until later that I had called him witty. But he had automatically picked up on it and smirked. "Don't doubt me. I don't like it one bit; I'm considering disappearing. Running off."

My eyes widened a little at that. I had no idea what to think about a Verona with no Mercutio. It would be quieter, a lot quieter, and peaceful. I almost beamed a smile to the idea of no Mercutio, no joking, no taunting, no piercing blue eyes that could hit you from across a crowd and you'd know what he was thinking.

But then, I realized something I wish I never had.

Because soon, unknown to me, it would be the tip off of my death. To be exact, the fight in the street that led to the punishment of cleaning up the library was the beginning. But this thought . . . it sparked something that never should have been.

_Without Mercutio, what was I meant for? _

It sent shivers down my spine at the impact of meaning. There were so many things that branched off of that one sentence. _What purpose do I have without him? What would I do without him? Does he mean more in my life than just that annoying jester?_

"Huh, nothing to say to that? Are you imagining the beauty of a perfect Verona?" his soft snickering entered my mind, "Or, should I say, Verona in ruins. Without me, nothing would be the same!" He chuckled mockingly, but all I could think was: _A Verona without him; why can't I picture a Verona without him? _

So I changed the subject. A little. "What is it that they are doing to make you think this way? Let me guess, they're making you become a grown man instead of the child you actually are? Perhaps they are teaching you table etiquette? Perchance the best way to talk to nobles?"

He didn't crack a wider grin; the smile he wore stayed the same . . . tight and thin and forced. I wondered what could be so bad that he would act this way.

"They've arranged for me to marry a girl from another kingdom for the underlining meaning to enhance her family's wealth. And . . . to strengthen the relations between Verona and this other kingdom."

I left my hand frozen on the book tower. Mercutio? To be wed? What? I didn't understand why he of all people would be cursed to marry when he obviously didn't want to. He'd made it clear on many accounts that he was not looking for a woman. I couldn't say I blamed him there. Women were a hassle to get.

But the prince was making him marry this girl? Forcing him to? It didn't seem quite fair, for Mercutio's sake. He was a free soul, clearly and he didn't seem to be the type to be so easily tamed.

But the _look on his face _showed just how real the situation was. He was going to have to marry, to learn to love someone, who he did not quite like at all. I, who never saw sympathy for even my closest friends, felt bad for him.

"They're _what?"_ I stammered, body still, eyes open, and mouth slightly agape. "Forcing _you? _To _marry?_"

He chuckled a little. "Yes, it seems like it."

I sucked in my bottom lip, thinking deeply while studying the books in front of me. I began to dust them off with a cloth, my breath shallow. "Do you love her?"

Why? What was that? That odd pang in my heart that throbbed my being? It must have been the awkwardness of the conversation.

It had to have been.

Yes, nothing more. For, what else could it be?

_**Do**__ you love her? _

"No," He deadpanned, "She lets off bad tidings . . . I have a bad feeling about her."

I could feel the sigh of relief in my chest sooth my system. I tried to ignore it, to think of something different, of anything else than what that feeling could possibly be. Mercutio stood then, and I gawked at how his shirt was bundled up to show his abdomen.

I looked away before I could feel anymore emotions. It was wrong to think this way; of Mercutio, no less! It was nothing, probably, just a phase I was going through from the lack of a female around me. I still did not want a wife, but if this feeling . . . this desire to touch that skin kept progressing, I'd have to find someone.

"We should get to work before we are discovered chatting." I say darkly, angered by my thoughts.

He gave me a cocky smirk, "What's gotten into you? The Prince of Cats has grown to be a sour puss?"

He laughed, loudly, at his own joke, throwing his head back as he did so. I growled at him and shoved a stack of books into his arms, pushing him over to a shelf for him to dust.

**oOo**

Hours past, and we managed to get a lot of work done. While he talked, nonetheless. I had snapped at him several times, but I occasionally scoffed at some of the witty jokes he pulled. After we finished our daily cleanup, we could not go home.

If we had left, the Prince would suspect we were skipping out on work, and lengthen our sentence.

So, we sat in the arm-chairs near the center of the library. I'd read while he slept/talked/watched me read. When he watched me, I uncontrollably could not concentrate and I'd yell for him to look someplace else or do something else.

"What are you reading, Prince of Cats?"

"A book."

". . . What kind of book?"

"The kind you read."

"Are you reading it sufficiently?"

"I was until you started talking."

From the corner of my eye, I saw that same smile and those blue eyes. "You find me cunning, do you not? You find my voice to be alluring!"

"I find you obnoxious. If that's what you were getting at."

His smile turned into a full-fledged beam, teeth and all. He was lounging in one chair, his legs over the armrest. With a sheet of parchment in his lap and a quell in the other, he balanced the bottle of ink on his knee perfectly.

There was a moment of quiet and I thought he had moved on to do something else. I was partially wrong, for he was not done with me yet. There was a faint ripping sound before a ball of paper ricocheted off my cheek and bounced to the floor. I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. I turned my head to look at him.

His skin glowed with his smile, eyes very alight, "What is it?" He asked mischievously. I glared before going back to my book. The best thing to do with Mercutio and his annoyance level was ignore him.

I began to read once more.

'_. . . where civil blood makes civil hands unclean_

_From forth the fatal loins of these two foes_

_A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;_

_Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows_

_Doth with their death bury their parents' strife-,'_

'FWAP'

"Mercutio," I hiss through my teeth. "Is there a specific reason why you are pestering me so?"

He grinned, "Only to become your friend, Tybalt! Ha! You are so easily messed with; a patience level should be able to tolerate more, but not you, sir! The King of Cats who couldn't find forbearance. For all I'd have to do is throw such a simple object at you in such a peaceful place and you'd simply 'AH!' snap! And with this snapping you'd bring the whole castle down with you!" He broke into random laughter fits.

I growled a little his way, but returned to my book, blocking the sneers.

'_The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,_

_And the continuance of their parents' rage,_

_Which but-,' _

'FWAP'

I slammed the book down, leaping up from my seat. To his slight surprise, I marched over to him, put two hands on either side of the seat around his head, and paused, face mere inches away from his. He still wore the same expression, partially stirred from the sudden outburst.

"Isn't there any way to shut you up?"

His eyes flared in front of mine. The effect they had at this distance increased and I felt my body flutter. I took note of the scratch I had given him, knurling the soft skin on his neck. I didn't regret it, not really, but under this gaze I felt that all of Verona blamed me. While he chuckled softly, I noticed the hue his aqua gaze possessed, the way his blonde hair fell over them and curled around them. It was a brighter, purer, deeper blue than the skies or the seas. It was . . .

"Not quite. Only death can seal these lips that Queen Mab herself yearns and lusts for."

Captivating.

I shoved on the chair, sending him flying backwards with a cry of surprise. I walked calmly back to my seat while he landed, sitting back down with my book and continuing. Mercutio cursed at me, saying many words I'd never thought him to use. "Clever, Prince of Cats, clever." He hummed, holding his head.

I lifted my eyes to look at him lazily, "You're attraction can only go so far, it seems." I couldn't hid my smirk any longer, for he was very alarmed by the fall.

"That's twice you've attacked me this week." Mercutio commented offhandedly, picking the chair back up but not sitting in it.

He strutted around my chair for a moment, watching me 'read'. It wasn't quite reading when I couldn't concentrate. He made me self-conscious, worried I was making the wrong expressions.

"Do you wish for a repeat of what just happened?" I threatened, voice low as I looked up at him. He stood in front of me now.

For once in his life, Mercutio said nothing. He held an amused expression, eyes on me, and just stood there.

"Clown-?" I began, but Mercutio reached out to grab his rapier's sheave, pulling the weapon out before discarding the case. I watched him, growing tense. "What are you doing?" I rumbled, closing the book slowly.

The blonde only pointed his weapon at me and spoke these words, "Do you wish to talk of attractions? Let's talk over something that suits us better. Draw."

**oOo**


	5. Chapter 5

**TYBALT'S POV**

**oOo**

**CHAPTER 4**

**oOo**

He thrust the sword further at my neck. "Draw."

My hand itched to do just that, but I resisted. "Have you gone mad-? Well, more than usual?"

Never hesitating, he responded, "I dream of fighting; of killing and winning and succeeding and death. Of foreign throats slicing open under my blade. And even more so, I want to be known by everyone around the world. Verona's walls can only go so far. And what about you, Prince of Cats? What do you dream of?"

My mind processed why on Earth he would be rambling about this. "Mercutio, put your weapon up. You have no need for it." It was true. On any other day, I'd gladly take a challenge from him. But right now, in our punishment for our last duel . . .

"Give me a reason then."

I felt the tip of the rapier pierce my skin near my collar bone. Anger and adrenaline pumped through me, inspiring me to grab my weapon and put him into his place. "Mercutio, do not start this with me."

"What do you dream of, King of Cats?"

I stood cautiously, moving with the blade at my throat. "If you kill me here, there's no way you could hide it."

"I was planning on disappearing anyway." He cocked his head to the side as if he was studying me closer.

"Is there a good reason why you're pointlessly attacking me?"

Mercutio shifted feet. "I'm bored. And you just shoved me over in a chair, ignoring my obvious gorgeousness. I think that is a mere sin in itself."

I drew my rapier. "You know nothing of sin, clown."

Our weapons clanged together. "Let me teach you," I hissed, attacking. He blocked the blow with the tip of his blade, twisting his wrist until he had the range to attack me. He did so swiftly, almost gracefully, getting me to jump back. We did this back and forth, seeing who could get the first hit.

Watching his footing, I jumped onto the small table in the center of all the chairs, creating a higher advantage. Mercutio was not affected by this; he was already a few inches shorter than me as it was.

'CLANG!'

Or swords worked hard, quickly, at first only aiming to snatch a small bit of clothing, possibly draw a bit of blood. But it grew into the intent to harm. I wasn't exactly acutely aware that I would soon kill him if I kept this up.

"I dream," Mercutio yelled over his swings, "Of running and gliding through battlefields! Chopping off the heads of millions of enemies! Of my men screaming my name in victory! Of my Father finally understanding why I hate this bloody house! Of my Uncle finally letting go of his 'proper nephew' laws! Of becoming Mercutio the Great and sailing seas to find more blood to draw!"

He snipped at my chest with the rapier's tip. It didn't cut me, but it sliced my shirt open. One of my best.

I growled, lunging to harm, to hurt him. But he swirled out of my way, cutting open the final button on my shirt, leaving me there in my ripped clothing. I felt the anger fuming in me.

"What do you dream of, Tybert, Prince of Cats?" he cried with a tint of insanity. Desperate, almost.

"I DREAM OF KILLING YOU!" I snarled, now ready to do just as I said. "I dream of driving my weapon into your heart and watching you cry out your regrets through your last breath! Of becoming the greatest swordsman in Verona! No! All of Italy! All of the world!" I at last cornered him against a bookshelf and cut open the seams on his left sleeve.

I was about to ram the blade through his chest, watch him bleed, laugh like a maniac. "Good, then that's something we can work on."

I stopped, blade hovering just meters above his skin. He was looking up at me through thick lashes, a grin spread far across his face, "Now we have something to talk about. Something to _do. _That was fun, Prince of Cats, now you won't just be reading. It's almost time for you to go today, but we can pick back up on this tomorrow. I'll win next time though, don't doubt me."

He . . . did all of that just for his own amusement? Because I was reading and he had nothing better to do? Mercutio . . . I'll kill you.

Quick as a sparrow's eyes glide, he lifted his rapier and knocked mine away from him. It landed on the floor with a loud clanking sound. He could have done that all along, but he didn't. Life really was just a game to him.

I was livid, almost.

But I had to admit. This was a lot less awkward than sitting in a room alone with him trying to read.

**oOo**

"Tell me, Tybalt, where is it that you have been lately?" one of my friends asked me. His name was Lorenzo and he had been my servant since we were children. "You never show up in town anymore. We never see you."

I didn't want to tell him that I was spending my weeks with Mercutio, dueling in the library in the spare time we had between cleaning out books.

"Uncle has needed me to train some new knights in fencing. They're only fifteen so they don't know much; it's a hassle. But he has requested me and I will not turn down his offer."

"That's rather caring of you, Tybalt." Lorenzo mused, kicking up dirt with his shoe, "How is it going?"

"H-How is it going?" I searched my brain for a good answer, "It's . . . progressing."

"Progressing? Are they learning okay? Any complications?" He was looking at me, but I kept my eyes on the Italian sky.

"They're doing just fine. Only a few complications here and there, nothing bad."

"Oh? What are the complications?"

I could have cried tears of joy when Sampson and Gregory walked up to us, sitting down next to us. "Tybalt, mate! Where the devil have you been off to? I haven't seen you in ages!" Sampson cackled, slapping a hand on my back.

"He's been training students in the art of fencing." Lorenzo piped in. Gregory raised a brow.

"Really? I had no idea!"

Sampson laughed, "How is it that YOU are patient enough to teach?"

I gave him a glare, clenching my teeth a bit. "It is not impossible, though you may think so, Sampson. And Gregory, if you must know, I have been doing so for-," here I thought how long Mercutio and I had been cleaning, "-two weeks now."

Sampson's eyes grew wide, "Under all our noses! Ha! Tybalt, kind sir, you are courageous!"

They all burst out into laughter and I feigned it through my nervousness. I was a terrible liar, but they were all good fools, so I was okay for now. Until, of course, Mercutio came bounding up to us, surrounded by Benvolio and four others.

"Well if it isn't Tybalt!" he sang, leaning over to bow, "Basking out in the sun, are we? Couldn't let your shiny coat get all dull."

Benvolio and the others chuckled. I tried to picture when I had him against the chair, my sword in the leather near his head as he yelled out. That had been yesterday, during our most recent duel. I had won, but he had made it seem like it was not much of a victory, mocking me like he had.

"Funny clown, very humorous," I smirked, "But the circus has moved on without you! Alas, run off and find your ringleader."

Sampson and Gregory snorted our laughs. Some others were gathering by now while market salesmen were staring at us as if they knew we were about to start a fight.

Mercutio seemed unaffected, as always, and continued to gloat around. "Has someone stepped on the cat's tail?"

I crossed on leg over the other and changed the subject smoothly. "What brings you out here today, fool?"

He gave a little spin on his heel, all the way around, arms spread out wide as if he was showing an audience his show, "It's such a lovely day! What, are you saying I cannot walk Verona's streets? Do you have proof that I cannot? A document? A law somewhere? For until you have that, I will continue on with my ways."

I stood, walking the three steps it took to be towering over him. He wasn't exactly short, really, but I was tall and he was more along the lines of lanky if anything. He had to look up, through his lashes again, but this time, they didn't gleam. "Some things are stronger than laws. As an example . . .," I placed a hand on my sword. It was enough.

"Mercutio . . . Tybalt . . . please, the Prince has already told you both you cannot fight. Didn't you both swear not to?"

There was a pause in the tension. I and Mercutio connected eyes and knew the consequences of fighting again. What scared me a little was that I hadn't –and didn't ever- intend to fight him or harm him and every time I did aim for that. We were always too caught up in each other's words and glares and taunts that it blocked everything else.

"Right," I spat, looking to the sky for a moment to calm myself. "Right." I reiterated stronger.

Mercutio went further to say, "Well, fine. I guess we'll pick this up some other time . . . some other place." He said the last bit just for me. I glowered down at him while my men and his went different ways. Then, I leaned down, inches away, and said lowly, "Try not to fall off any more book cases while I'm not around, clown."

His left eye twitched with annoyance, to my prevail, and I strutted off to catch up with my men.

**oOo**


	6. Chapter 6

**MERCUTIO'S POV**

**oOo**

**CHAPTER 5**

**oOo**

"Have you ever been serenaded before?"

"God, no."

"Aw, never?"

"Men serenate, fool. I am no woman."

"That is no excuse."

"Are you implying your sexuality here?"

"Are you interested?"

Tybalt's brow furrowed in disgust. I just kept smiling, flipping through the pages of the 'N' section in the library. The dust flew off in puffs, sticking to my cheeks. As I brushed it off, I kept my eyes on him.

"Get back to work clown."

I picked up another book, a thin one with tiny words. "So you are interested." I draw out my words in a sing-song way, running a finger over the books spine. Tybalt is on a ladder, on the bookshelf facing mine. In our ally way of about seven feet, I look up at him. He wants to know, I can tell he wants to know.

"I most certainly am not."

"I can tell." I grin, "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

Tybalt let out have a snarl, "Mercutio, I'm considering how it would feel to strangle you to death."

I laugh silently to that, twisting my finger to make a smiley face on the book's dusty cover. "I care not for love. But if you asked me my solid opinion . . . I guess I'd say love is love. As someone who doesn't even get into it and watches from above it, I see it to be as it is."

"Are you saying-?" he gave me a revolted glare.

"No, I'm not homosexual. I don't love, so I can't be anything really. I consider 'love' more like making love then leaving. It seems the simplest way. Even if it's a bit scandalous."

"But if you _did _fall in love with someone . . ."

"Yes, I guess there will always be that small possibility that I'd fall for a girl I slept with . . . or . . ., "I connected eyes with him, "A man."

There was a twinge in my heart I couldn't quite ignore. Brown eyes surrounded by a fair face . . . I couldn't help it but to continue staring. I didn't mind if he caught me. Tybalt's opinion didn't bother me so much anymore. In fact, I found it funny that he'd look at me like that.

"Repulsing." He spat. _That, _however, hurt. I looked away, trying to erase those emotions from my heart. This was Tybalt, after all. I'd sworn long ago that Tybalt and I would never be close friends. And this new feeling was pushing that too far.

So I went back to being love-banned. "For you, perhaps, but there are poor fools out there in love with someone they could never be with. And, Tybalt, they are in pain because of this."

He didn't say anything, but he did half-way turn to look at me. "You're saying you would allow a man to kiss you?"

I wasted not a second. "I don't care for love, remember? But if you MUST know the specifics, if I loved him I'd let him do whatever he wanted with me, not just kiss. But considering I haven't held a love for a man ever, it still shakes me up a little to picture that. However, I wouldn't refuse if I 'loved him'."

He froze, book in hand, eyes on me. I couldn't tell if he was intrigued or purely disgusted. I hoped he wasn't disgusted in me. That would make things harder around here to cope with.

"I see," He murmured, placing the book back on the shelf and grabbing for the next, "Well, alright then. Whatever you prefer I suppose."

I blinked at him in awe, "You don't find me sickening?"

"I find it . . . difficult to understand and rather strange, but other than that . . ." Tybalt paused, "It's a sin, you know this right?"

"It is a _sin_ to _love_?"

He turned around on the ladder and jumped the few feet it took to reach the ground, startling me. Once he had landed, he walked over to stand in front of me. He wasn't close enough for touching distance; I could reach out my arm at full length and touch his chest with the tip of my finger.

"It is a_ sin _to_ make _love. To a man, that is. It is a sin to _lust_."

"Do you lust?" I asked warily, face smooth.

He just stared at me like I hadn't asked the question. I continued, "For another man?"

"I'd rather not think like that."

"But . . . you do. Sometimes?"

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head, looking to the ground. "Mercutio, in all seriousness, do you expect to find another man in Verona that would possibly share the same opinion you do? Only one person has your type of mind, and that person is you."

I felt something in me flinch at that. There wouldn't be a single person who'd agree with me, I knew this. And it wasn't like I was saying I was homosexual. I hated the idea of loving a woman who would only wither and hate you one day, like mother did to father. That's why I hated the idea of love.

But here was Tybalt, brown eyes burrowing into mine. And for a moment, I allow myself to wonder what it would be like to lay in those arms at night, breathing in his scent. But I try not to like the idea, for he has made it clear he disagrees with lusting for another man.

I sighed.

"I suppose that's true. But what say you, Tybalt? Do you agree with my aspect on love? Even in the slightest?" I knew the answer before he even said it. Of course it would be 'no.' he hates the idea. He hates me. He hates all my opinions.

But then, he manages to surprise me.

"I approve to a degree." He mused quietly, "Love is love. Even if the world has too little of it to need it. Even you and your twisted ideas of passion are . . . approved in my eyes. To a degree, remember."

My heart pounds and I fear something has happened inside me. He soon turns and goes back to work like nothing has happened, like nothing was said.

But something had happened, although nothing had to be said. My heart stretched when he said, "Mercutio, go ahead and get back to work. I want to finish early today for our duel."

Oh . . .

No. I refuse. This was Tybalt Capulet! One of my greatest foes. "Mercutio," he said again. "Are you listening?"

My heart hammered, my cheeks heated, and I had to spin around to keep from him seeing. Surely it was a feeling that would pass. Surely I wouldn't feel like this forever. "Yes, I heard you." I mutter. He chuckles from behind and it gives me chills.

"Fool."

_Curse you Prince of Cats. _

**oOo**

It only got worse.

Dreams upon dreams of him and I underneath blankets in my room, naked and hungry, stroking and rolling around were soon to come. I'd wake up in a cold sweat on most nights, breathing deep to keep from moaning. God it was hard to stop thinking about it. Every time another dream would come around, it would be more intense, more detailed, more vivid in every little feature.

I was losing sleep, afraid to do so for I might see him again. But I longed to see him staring at me the way he did in my dreams, the way he'd kiss me gently good-night after a long battle with the sheets.

It had to stop.

I'd lay awake at night, thinking about _women_ if that was what had to happen_. _I hated to think about it because it was something I didn't care about at all. But it was a silver lining; a hope for me to stop picturing my legs around his waist.

There hadn't been any noises in the dreams yet. I had not heard a single word being uttered. And I had been grateful for that. But it was short lived.

I sat up for hours that night, holding my legs to my chest. "You don't love him," I had said, "You can't want this. You told yourself you wouldn't."

But it was too late. I was already in over my head. That blasted Prince of Cats.

**oOo**

"We're almost done with the first floor," He said to me as he thrust the sword under my arm. I had dodged, just barely.

"Yes, I suppose we are, King of Cats."

"It'll take another bloody month, won't it?" Tybalt raised his lip in a snarl, trying to ignore the name calling. Twisting my wrist, I swirled our swords until I thrust mine forward. It snipped at his shirt.

I swallowed hard, "Possibly."

One of the buttons flew to the ground and he made a face at me, "We've been over this. If you ruin another of my shirts, people are going to suspect the worst."

My cheeks went pink. "Then let them suspect. We hate each other, everyone knows that. Even if it seems strange."

I caught another button and he lowered his sword, looking at me with his lips in a thin line. I could see the lower half of his torso now, and I was secretly loving it.

_More._

"Mercutio," He said to me, "I'm warning you."

I wondered what he would do to me if I ripped open his shirt all the way, smirking and grinning.

"Warning me of what?" I grin, lunging forward to snip off the last button. He darts to the side, however, and I progress forward. Suddenly, he has my sword wrist in his big hand, pulling me to the side. Yelping out in surprise, I drop my rapier and fall to the floor.

I feel a thud from above and open my eyes to see Tybalt on top of me, straddling me. He has my both my wrists in one hand, pinned above my head, leaving the rest of my body vulnerable to any attacks. I am paralyzed, unable to move or think. Tybalt's other hand held his sword against my throat, pressing it in a little.

I didn't know what to do; what to think. Here he was, much like he was in my dreams, face closer than ever before. Please, Tybalt, get off of me before I begin to beg you. I'm not myself right now, can't you see? Get off of me, go away, disappear.

"Clown?"

I know he's seen my red cheeks, felt my heartbeat going fast underneath him. "G-Get off." I hiss. He keeps staring at me as if he is confused. My cheeks go a deeper shade of crimson. "Get off!" I yell, squirming to get away.

"What's wrong? Afraid you've lost?"

Losing my mind.

Losing my body.

Losing control.

I want him. I want him more than I've ever wanted anything. More than I've wanted Father's approval or Uncle's care. I couldn't resist it anymore; or at least not here.

"Tybalt . . ." I whisper, face smoothening. I could only beg from here.

He tilts his head to the side, as if he still does not understand. I close my eyes, picture being somewhere else, then summon all of my strength to shove him off of me. He falls to his side, eyes wide in shock, as I scramble up against the bookshelf.

"Since when are you that strong?" he mutters in amusement. I can feel myself breathing heavy, still trying to clear my mind.

"What a stupid question," I snap, "Why did you not get off when I asked you to?"

His look was blank. "We've never listened to each others demands during our duels."

I feel my hands shaking, but I'm okay to stand up. "Yes well, that was serious . . ."

"What made it so serious?" He asks.

I straighten my shirt and rub at my wrists he had been holding in his hands. I didn't look to him, but instead chose to look at the books above his head. "It's time for you to go home for today, isn't it?"

"Is it?" He blinked. "I think I still have at least half an hour."

"Right well, I-,"

The door to the library suddenly opened from beyond shelves. "Mercutio?" it was my Uncle, trying to find me in the maze. I called out where I was, grateful for him stopping the conversation.

"I need to speak with you." He said, gazing at Tybalt who was 'cleaning books' on the bottom shelf. I was impressed he had reacted that fast.

"Alright," I murmured, leaving the confused Tybalt to clean books. He had his finger on a page, glaring at me like I was insane. He probably thought I was, after I shoved him off and threw a fit at random. Following my Uncle out of the room, I tried to clear my mind of what just happened. Surely I could defeat this stupid desire.

"What is it you need me for?" I asked him warily. He was walking ahead of me, opening the door, but leaving me to shut it. I followed him down the halls, silence taking over. "Uncle," I tried again, picking up pace to catch up to him. I was now a little far from being at his shoulder. "Is it something with Katrina-?"

"Quiet!" He snapped at me suddenly, making me withdraw from his shoulder. I stopped in my place, causing him to do the same thing moments later. His eyes were enough to make me shake in my skin just a little. I wasn't backing down from his gaze, not by any means, but it was chilling to see him like this. Normally Father was the violent one and Uncle just stood there. This was different.

"What did I _do?_" I smirk softly, trying to keep the eye contact no matter how much easier it would be to look away.

"It's not what you did do," He frowned deeply, "It's what you didn't do."

"And what would that be?" I asked as he turned and continued walking. I followed him automatically, curious as to what I did wrong. When we reached his office he didn't even gesture for me to sit (so I stood) before crashing into this chair.

"You had a date scheduled today between you and Ms. Katrina, yes?" He spat. Suddenly, realization washed over me and I let a small groan of stupidity. It had been a scheduled date, yes. A date that should've taken place half an hour ago. When I was supposed to leave the Library early and meet her. It occurred to me that I had dueled Tybalt at that time.

I had completely blown off my meeting with my future wife to fight Tybalt. I almost laughed. Almost.

"I'm terribly sorry."_ I wasn't._ "Perhaps we could reschedule?"

Uncle let out a long sigh. "Mercutio. I know you do not want to marry this girl. But that doesn't mean you can ruin this for Verona." I just _loved _how he made me the bad guy like that, "So, for the good of your home city, you will have to marry her. She is wealthy, this family is wealthy, and because of that, Verona will be even more prosperous than it already is. You will marry her."

My eyes closed out of frustration. "What if I don't want to?"

"Excuse me?" Uncle's voice was dull but I could hint the malice.

"I do not love her." I deadpanned, "I'll never love her. I can tell I won't. I don't want to marry."

"IT IS NOT YOUR CHOICE, MERCUTIO!" hands slammed on a desk, a strand of Uncle's hair came out of place, and my heart quickened in slight panic. I hated pointless conflict. And this was pointless. I couldn't wait until he told me excused me from the room, that way I could go back to Tybalt and-

Back to Tybalt to do what? I couldn't say anything to him; it was hard enough for me to tell him the problem at all.

Uncle calmed down a little, settling into his chair again before placing a hand on his forehead. "Go, just go. We'll reschedule and you'll be sure to come to that one. If we have to drag you there, you will show up. You're lucky she isn't furious with you. I'm surprised she hasn't turned down your proposal."

That did it.

"Oh and that would just be a _shame."_

"OUT!" he roared, and I did just that, storming out with a slam of the door. I wasn't thinking straight on my way back to the library. My mind was a storm of curses and suicidal thoughts. If I wasn't calmed down soon, I'd be considering a rapier through the heart.

Tybalt could give me either of those outcomes.

"_'I'm surprised she hasn't turned down your proposal'_! Ha! I never proposed! I never laid eyes on her until discussing our honey moon!"

Tybalt stared at me from his perch in a leather chair. Brown wavy locks falling just ever so slightly, he looked up at me with a questioning look on his face. "Calm down," he told me. "You haven't explained to me what has happened yet." So I did, even though I didn't want to. I yelled it out, throwing papers and books off of the rows of tables. He watched me, face blank and steady. "Mercutio . . ." I heard him say, but I took no note of it.

"All of a sudden they decide to take a part of my life? They haven't been there for me ever since Mother died! I can't even remember back that far, so basically my whole life has been nothing but locked doors! Staying in my room when I cried! Getting back up when they knocked me down! Taking there insults and glares and becoming who I am now!"

I was about to shove a tower of books over when an arm wrapped around my waist and a hand captured my wrists about me head. I yelled out, thrashing in his arms. "Release me, Tybalt!" I screamed, hot tears stinging in my eyes. Coming back to the library was a bad idea, I should have just gone to my room.

He didn't say a word, but instead, he just held me to him. "Calm down," He repeated, lips dangerously close to my ear. I shivered.

"Let me go, please." I ground out through my teeth, still squirming. He hand went from my waist to my chest, holding me with a tighter grip. "If they hear you crashing about in here they'll punish you." I was sure that nothing could be more punishing than Tybalt Capulet's voice in my ear, lips so close to my skin.

"I don't care anymore." I whispered, going limp. His arms were so strong; they could hold me up from both my wrists and my chest without dropping me to the ground. All I wanted was for him to let go of me. I'd take off running to my room automatically, never looking back. But he had his arms around me, tight. And because of this, I would be forever frozen where he had me. "I just want to die."

"Don't be a fool." He says, "Death won't fix anything."

My head falls back into his neck, pitifully. "I just want to get out of here."

He sighs, "Then run away like you said you were going to do. It would be simpler and less drastic than killing yourself." All I was getting out of this was that he did not want me to die. I had a sick, sick disease.

"There is no where to go." I mutter, closing my eyes. He suddenly sits down and I gasp as we land in a chair. I'm in his lap, which is odd and awkward as it is. "W-What are you doing?" I gawk, trying to comprehend what had just happened. He still has my wrists, but they are now in my lap.

He, as always (I think it's a habit of his now that we've been around each other for so long), ignores me. "No where?"

I try to comprehend what to do with my words. I was taught to speak, so why could I suddenly not? I looked up to see his face, blank, as if this was just him holding me hostage. I took it wrong, it was hard not to. I was just so comfortable in his arms, being held there by his will. I liked it, although my life would be a lot easier if I didn't.

This was Tybalt. The Tybalt that was always so precise about fashion, had an ego larger than his patience, and was always so stuck up and serious.

I am Mercutio. The Mercutio that was always so disgusted by fashion, had more wit than common sense, and was always laughing and jesting about.

We were so very different, but somehow we managed to have (close to) the same ideas on love. It was nothing but a flicker in the air, nothing but a chaste kiss that meant nothing more than hunger and lust. Love was a one-night ordeal that usually left one side with a broken heart and the other with many more to break. Love was nothing unless it hurt to love. THAT was love. Love was being attracted both sexually and emotionally to a person.

And I was attracted to Tybalt in that way.

Every quick smirk of victory sent my nerves flying. Every gleam in his bright brown eyes as he leaped forward to swing his sword made me wish I was the underlining cause of the glint. But the sad thing was I probably was not even close. I could bet money that Tybalt loathes me and once this whole scenario with cleaning the royal library is over and done with, Tybalt will be on his way.

**oOo**

OMG. Went back on my word :P Said I wasn't going to talk much. Well, I've been thinking and I needed to say this :) Have patience plz, darlings.

1. I like the Franco Zeffirelli film's scene direction. I don't much like how Mercutio looks in this version because I've seen better pics of him (in his younger days that is) and he didn't look his best for this role. However, I love that Merctuio best. That's why he's my fav character. So yea, I kinda base this off the play and that movie. Like I said, I don't really like the way Tybalt OR Mercutio look, so feel free to visualize them as you like :)

2. Mercutio is a pervert ._. Like seriously, no joke. If you look closely at some of the lines he has . . . he's basically telling Romeo he's being stupid with all this romance crap and that he should just sleep with the girl and leave ._. Lol love you Cutio, but you need to take things slow like :3

3. Tybalt and Mercutio's relationship in this story is going to be rough and sad to begin with. Mercutio still does not want accept he is in love with Tybalt. I mean, he's been telling himself all his life that he doesn't need love, only lust. So for him to just accept love with Tybalt of all people . . . it's gonna take a few chapters lol. But that doesn't mean his thoughts stop LOL

4. Mercutio's ideas on love? Well, let me explain in a nutshell: He doesn't think love is for him. However he thinks lust is fine. He thinks that lust/(and if the time is right)love should not be limited to one gender. Mercutio thinks that if it is truly love and if it surpasses lust to blossom into something more . . . then it's worth crossing the gender line. He doesn't care. Because of this, Mercutio is shocked/appalled to discover the man he might like is Tybalt of all people. ***Please tell me if you do not understand anything with Mercutio's ideas on** **love***

5. Tybalt's ideas on love? Well, let me explain in a nutshell: He isn't shy about love. He thinks women slow a man down and are just a waste of efforts, but he still has his arms open just in case. Up until the encounter with Mercutio in the library where he is told the other man's ideas on love, Tybalt hasn't ever viewed love as a gender optional thing. Tybalt doesn't love Mercutio, but can't deny ever feeling now and then. He tries not to think about it too much, which sometimes helps. Unfortunately for him, Mercutio is on his mind a lot more than he should be. Tybalt wants women and is attracted to them and NOT MEN, but it seems Mercutio is a sad exception. ***Please tell me if you do not understand anthing with Tybalt's ideas on love***

Okay I think that's about it :D Hope you get it better now. If you have any questions, just PM me, okay? Thanks guys!

~with love, qualls1~


	7. Chapter 7

**TYBALT'S POV**

**oOo**

CHAPTER 6

**oOo**

Part of me wanted to throw him to the ground.

Part of me didn't want to to that because just THINKING it could make it be taken wrong.

Part of me just wanted to go to bed.

Part of me wanted to go to bed ALONE.

Mercutio sat in my arms, asleep. I don't know how he could have managed to fall asleep in my arms, of all places, but he must have been incredibly tired to be able to do so. He had his hands on my chest after I had let his wrists go, his slender body fitting into me perfectly. I studied him, moving to get more comfortable under his body pressure. He was snoring lightly, murmuring nothingness into my shirt.

I don't know what this feeling is, but it should go away now.

Mercutio was not a man to cry in front of an enemy, but I could now see the small droplets stuck in his lashes where he had blinked them away. He had ranted to me about how unfair life was to him; about how his Uncle and Father treated him growing up.

After hearing that story, I didn't want to shove him the ground or leave him alone in here to go to bed. I connected to his childhood, for my parents made me the horrid person I am today. After mother died, I began living with Uncle Capulet and it has been that way peacefully for awhile now.

"Mercutio," I whisper in his ear. He doesn't move much, just wiggles around a little. I smirk and say again, "Mercutio, get up."

He lets out a moan and clings further, yanking my ripped shirt down a little. Fingers brushing my skin, I flinch and shiver a little. "Mercutio-,"

"Tybalt . . ."

He wasn't awake when he said it. I at first thought he was just dreaming and heard me calling his name, so he responded. Then, his face took on a new look. His eyebrows curled upward, his cheeks heated, and his mouth fell open just a little. "Ty . . . balt . . ."

The way he said it allowed me to catch on automatically.

I didn't know what to do or what to say, so after he said it _again _(and a little louder . . . a little more drawn out and moan-ish) I threw him off of me, onto the ground, where he landed with a disturbing 'THUD' sound. It had to hurt, from the agonized, shocked look his face morphed into . He rolled on his side, hand on his back where he had smacked against the floor. He roared a certain curse word through his teeth.

I, however, was silent. Stunned, really. He had just moaned my name, in a dream, with that face. And it was just a while ago that he had told me about his sexuality ideas. I wasn't panicking, nor was I enraged. I was, however, disgusted. How dare he choose ME? He knows I would never be seen with him in public. Especially in a world where being in love with another man was . . . _more _than forbidden. It was outlawed by the penalty of death.

It was true, sometimes I had looked at him and thought he was incredibly attractive. But I had never acted on it. I had never dreamed of it. I had never _moaned it while in his lap. _My teeth clenched and I looked for the door, thinking about running out while he was recovering. But by the time I thought of it, he had already whirled around to snarl, "What was that, Tybalt?"

I looked at the man on the floor; studied him good. He was surely just a pathetic mess right now. I shouldn't be so hard on him.

Oops, that's not stopping me.

"You were moaning and groaning my name in your sleep, fool! What was THAT?" I bark, shooting up from my chair.

His eyes widen and he pales in the dim light of the chandeliers. Looking down, Mercutio mumbles under his breath, "I what?"

"Your face was . . . your face . . . ! Gah! You looked like you were having a very . . . satisfying dream."

His eyes were so big now that I could see every breathtaking shade of blue. "You lie."

"I do not!" I yell, clenching my fists. He stands, a head or so under me, and looks up into my face with malice in his eyes.

"And? What if I was? Do you think it means anything, Tybalt? I don't love you, if that was what you were hoping for. Tybalt, I assure you, it might have been your name I called but It was not your face in that dream."

"Oh?" I was doubtful and still mad, but a small part of me was washed over with relief. That and, well, something else. Disappointment? There was nothing to feel disappointed about.

"Certainly not. Don't be so flattered." With that, he brushed past me, headed for the doors.

"Mercutio!"

He stopped, but didn't turn around. I watched his shoulders stiffen, then lax up as he let out a breath. "What is it, Tybalt?"

Something about the way he was talking made me feel . . . off balance. I watched him there, the usually happy and playfulness replaced with a lethal stillness. This person was not Mercutio. This was the monster residing in his heart; the broken and beaten child who grew up to be something he had always wanted earlier in life. Underneath that cocky smirk and those fiery blue eyes, there was a childhood full of fancy clothes, rules, and yelling. And somehow, through some miracle, Mercutio created the person he wanted to be. He had a very strong emotional tolerance level, it seemed.

But this . . . this was what was left after all that struggling. He played his part as the man he created, played his part to hide the child, and at night, after everyone was gone, this was what was left. A tired, broken soul that had to plan what to say and do the next day. He was incomplete. He needed more than just the script, he needed a director. He needed a push to keep trying to become the man he wanted to be. And this . . . this being in front of me . . . had not yet found that push.

"I believe you."

His head turned, as if he hadn't heard me right. "Good, thank God. There's no way I'd dream about you and I like that. Don't be ridiculous . . ."

I bit my bottom lip, waiting for it.

". . . Prince of cats."

And all was well with the world once more. I smiled gently, although I'd never let him see it, and said, "Shut up and go to bed."

That's what he did, leaving without a good night. Well, other than, "Try not to lose one of your nine lifes on the way home."

I tighten my rapier around my waist, making sure that everything was placed back the way it was before Mercutio had stormed in. We were making progress in the library. I missed being around all my men, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be-

What was I **saying?** I have to spend days with Mercutio of all people! This should be a living hell. But for some odd reason . . . it's been nothing but amusing to hear him ramble about. It wasn't as much like a prison as I expected it to be. He made the days go by faster, anyway. I hated to say it, but without him here and around me every day, this punishment really would be a punishment. With him . . . well, I was going to be a little sad whenever it's over.

**oOo**

****I had spoken too soon, it seemed.

I had a dream that night.

Hot breath on my neck, my name whispered frantically in my ear, two legs quivering on my shoulders, a climax consisting of his back arching to rub our ribs together. And soon after this, my teeth in his shoulder as I came. Everything was so warm and bright and wet. But one thing I remember most is his soft snickering chuckle into my collar as he muttered, "I'll be sore in the morning, Prince of Cats."

And as quickly as that one had happened, another scenario popped into my unsatisfied mind.

Reversed roles: his tantalizing chuckles into my ear as I breathed hard, his teeth nibbling my ear while whispering very very very specific aspects of my attraction into my ears. Inappropriate complements that lured me into calling out his name over and over. He would smile from above me, never giving me what I wanted because it was 'more fun this way'. I would be forced to beg to get what I wanted; to be able to finally get my release. And he would give me that (eventually) tenfold what I deserved.

I woke up and had to go take a cold bath. While shivering in the water, cleaning off and trying to calm myself, I began to panic and regret the dream. I wish I had never had it, no matter how good it felt to be under him and on top of him. I sunk into the water, hoping no one had heard the bath running. The icy water could eventually kill me, I supposed. I could drown myself or get hypothermia and die.

'_Try not to lose one of your nine lifes . . . '_

He'd never stop laughing, I thought, if I did die the single day he told me not to. That clown laughed during funerals, somehow. I laid my head against the tub bottom and let the cold numb me. My lungs burned, trying to get air. Throat contracting, I thought of my dream. Surely it was just a coincidence.

I snuggled deeper into the water. Die. Die. Die, Tybalt, just die. But I yanked out of the water in the end, gasping for air much like I had when I was underneath him, fingers digging into his back.

"Damn you, Mercutio." I whisper to no one, settling into the bathtub. I was calmed down now, even though I was sure it would be impossible to go back to bed.

"Damn you."

**oOo**

**:D LOL this one is shorter. Just thought I'd say that. Plus, I need to warn you. You think Tybalt's dream was racy? Well . . . in the next chapter or two . . . things get a little worse. Just a warning! As in, slight nudity and rape. But the sad thing? It's not between Tybalt and Mercutio D: Do not fret, darlings. We all want it to happen *I'm actually dying to write it* but if the characters go from hate to against-the-wall-doing-it . . . well, let's try to be a LITTLE realistic.**

**SPOILER ALERT! Mercutio=raped. Tybalt=Extremely pissed off. **

**Who does it? TeHe... press the next chapter button to find out. **


	8. Chapter 8

**MERCUTIO'S POV**

**oOo**

CHAPTER 7

**oOo**

It was a lively day in Verona. It was a day of worship, so as usual, Tybalt and did not have to work in the library. I was enjoying the sun, sitting on the steps in town square. Romeo sat to my left, Benvolio to my right. "Ah," Benvolio started, holding the page in his book to speak, "It seems the weather is nice enough for everyone to be out." It was true, I knew just about everyone that was in the square, most of them laughing or buying groceries at the markets.

"Ah, it is. I wonder if my fair Rosaline is out on a day like this?" Romeo sulked. I could have groaned. Everything had to be about his problems, didn't it?

"Good Romeo, please don't worry about her today! The sun is shining bright on Verona, so at least imagine her smiling." Benvolio most likely quoted that from one of his many books.

"But alas, I wish to see that smile . . ."

Oh. Holy. Saint. Francis.

I closed my eyes and laid back on the hot pavement. For a moment, everything was calm and still while Romeo and Benvolio talked about Rosaline and love and whatnot. The sun was burning through my eyelids, but I didn't want to sit back up. I could hear reality around me, picture the gestures Romeo was making to describe Rosaline's 'wonderfully flowing hair'.

But I'd soon have to open my eyes to reality.

"Mercutio Escalus. It's been awhile."

It made my skin crawl, sent shivers down my spine. I felt like throwing up at the voice, knowing it all too well. Romeo and Benvolio had stopped talking by now, I heard one of them mutter a polite greeting. Sitting up, I gazed upon Paris as if he was the devil in disguise. In my mind, he really was.

Flashes of when we were children ran through my mind and I felt like stabbing and killing him there. However, he was a prince and I was just ever so under that title.

I took a deep breath. "It has! It has! Tell me, dear cousin, have you found another suit?"

"I have," His almost yellow eyes gleamed with an evil intent hidden by a pretty face, "A Capulet girl."

My mind shot to Tybalt at the name 'Capulet'. I'd be . . . related in some manner . . . to Tybalt?

"Ah, really?" I fake smiled. "Has she even met you yet? Does she even know what you look like? How old you are? Pushing daisies, almost, dear cousin." I lived to call him old, to ridicule his good looks until they eventually faded to match my insults. But he took all of the offenses with stride, for he heard more than once a day how gorgeous he was. I bit my lip.

"Ha, funny as always Mercutio." He was not laughing, "I have a matter I need to discuss with you."

_A matter to discuss_

He'd used lines similar to that in the past. All of them led to the same thing.

I felt ill. "Now?" I stalled, "But I'm with company at the moment." I gestured slightly to my companions, who in turn, realized I was talking about them. They gaped at me, then turned to Paris.

"Oh, it's fine!" Benvolio smiled, "If you need a word with him, take all the time you need. Romeo and I have things to discuss about his lover as well."

Romeo went a nice shade of pink, "Y-Yes, well . . . Good day, Prince Paris."

And with that, they scurried off down the stairs, my eyes wide and on them. They just abandoned me with this demon.

I looked up to Paris, whose eyes had never left me. Not many people were left on the stairs; no one close to us at least. So he said, "You've really grown into a man."

"You've grown into a hag." I spat. He took two steps closer, stopping on the step above me. His light brown hair fell in his face, making his yellowish eyes glint to a dull silver color. He smirked, but did not laugh at my jesting.

"Like I said, I desire a word with you."

"You never say much at all when you use that excuse." I hiss, "I'm too old for you to trick me or bully me into it now. Your hands will stay off of me."

"Oh?" He leaned down to where his face was only an inch from mine. I was wondering why he didn't care if people stared. "And what if I tell your Father about your sexuality?"

My eyes narrowed. "You have close to the same ideals. What makes you think I won't tell him about how you touched me inappropriately as a child?"

The smirk stayed in place on his marble-cut features. "Who will they think more likely to be homosexual? The man who has a wife he doesn't want to marry or the man very much in love with his suit?"

Panic crashed over me. He had me cornered. Again.

"I-," Search for an answer! There has to be a way out of this! You can't let him keep doing this to you for the rest of your life, Mercutio! "I won't do anything with you."

The yellow gleam continued to wait, as if I hadn't said anything. Either way, I would be hurt. If Father found out I liked someone from the opposing gender, I'd be sentenced to death. If I went with Paris, it would only last for an hour or so. Surely he would be understandable and stop after that amount of time.

"Come with me."

I had no other choice.

**oOo**

**TYBALT'S POV**

**oOo**

I was walking the streets of Verona, alone this time around. Lorenzo, Sampson, and Gregory all were off playing some sport. I didn't want to participate; I'm not good at handling failure.

Since there was no one to talk to and no one to antagonize, I figured I'd look for Mercutio. The man was easy to spot and he was normally surrounded by Montagues. I thought about pestering them for awhile, making myself look good.

I spotted Romeo, without his dear friend, and asked (after several insults) where Mercutio was. Romeo, although a definite Montague, was very boring to try and pick fights with. Benvolio, who was next to him, was even more so boring. He was all about 'peace' and 'friendship' and allowed himself to be bullied.

Mercutio was the only one of their group that lunged in for a verbal and physical fight.

And he was not to be found.

"Prince Paris, his kinsman, asked him for a chat."

"It's been awhile," Benvolio added to Romeo's information, "Surely they should be done. Tybalt, I beseech you, do not start a fight with him! You and Mercutio have both been trying so hard to not fight! Don't ruin this. If you want to talk about work, that's fine. They went into that building," he pointed, "You can wait for them to exit."

"Do not tell me what to do," I sneer, not even saying thank you as I walk towards the building. Why couldn't they just talk out on the square?

**oOo**

**MERCUTIO'S POV**

**oOo**

His hands stroked me and I held back a moan by biting my tongue. Even though it was through my trousers, it still felt like it was right there. His teeth were in my neck, biting to the point where I could feel the blood seeping down my collar bones. He was biting close to the scratch Tybalt had given me.

My shirt was almost off, the bruises starting to swell. His grip was always so powerful, crushing my skin. He was never gentle, always so violent with me. He wanted what he wanted and he'd get what he wanted no matter what.

"It's been awhile since I've tasted you." He chuckled into my skin. The sick feeling increased. His hand trailed down my chest, nails digging in to rip the skin. I grunted in pain, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Masochist?" He pondered, drilling his fingers into my thighs. I screamed, yanking at the ropes he used to bind my hands. The bed creaked from my jerking around.

It was an abandoned cottage, it seemed. The room was dark and dirty looking, but some traces of furniture lingered here and there. I happened to be bound to one as I spoke. My hands were tied above my head, on the bed posts, my ankles tied to the other end. I was trapped under him.

"I get no joy out of this pain, hag." Here, he didn't have to act calm. He raked his claws down my sides, making me cry out in agony. Blood seeped in burning drops to the bed.

"I do."

He slipped two skilled fingers into the sides of my trousers, lapping the blood from my neck. His lips went to my chest to suckle on two sensitive points, biting down on them ruthlessly. I yelled out, hoping someone would just walk in and do something. I could have smiled bitterly at that. No matter how many times he had done this to me in some closet or bathroom, I'd always wished and wished for someone to save me. But no one ever did.

With my trousers off and my legs around his waist, he began his long sessions of torture.

After a while, the roughness numbed me to the point where I was somewhere else in my mind. I was in the library, sitting in Tybalt's arms as he talked me into calming down. His voice in my ear, his arms around my waist, his breath against my side . . . think of that, think only of that.

Paris got up fifteen minutes or so later, cutting me loose. I was so sore by now though that it didn't really matter; I couldn't stand up. His eyes watched me carefully as he dressed himself, tidying up. "You're a mess. Heh," He still didn't really laugh.

I said nothing; just lay on my back and quivered. Blood was everywhere, it always was. Fading to pink because he never drew enough to be noticeable. "You should get up a little after I leave and get dressed."

I just kept shaking, pulling the sheets to hide my body just a little. My lips were so cold, my body aching. Every time he came to visit, this always ended up happening.

The door closed. He was gone. I allowed myself to breathe and cry as I always did. I looked down at the blood on my chest, the claw marks, the red swelling bruises. I cried harder.

Suddenly, there was a swing of the door and I thought he must have been coming back to finish me off.

Then, ". . . _**What the hell?**_"

Tybalt. Tybalt was here. Tybalt was in the room with me. I turned my head to look at him, the bruises and blood all over me. Hopelessness echoed in my eyes, hollowed my words. "Tybalt . . ." I whispered.

He looked furious, eyes wide with shock, shoulders broad and tense with livid anger. He said my name back to me with an emotion containing horror, despair, concern, and pity. "Mercutio . . . !"

Everything went black.

**oOo**

I awoke to a clean bed, a warm pare of clothes, and Tybalt, next to me. At first, I thought I had died of the blood loss and was floating in limbo with him, where everything was perfect. Then, he rolled over on me, wrapping his arms around me and knocking what little shallow breath I had out. "Urg," I hissed, shoving him off. He woke up to this, blinking against the bright afternoon light.

"You're awake." He was suddenly very lively, upon seeing my consciousness. I nodded slowly, trying to recall why there were bite marks all over me and bruises everywhere. At first, when I felt the sharp pain in my back all the way to bellow my hips, I thought Tybalt and I had slept together. But then, memories of Paris's sneering face rose in my mind.

Before I could say anything, I was out of the bed, fighting the pain around my waist, and hurried to the window. I wretched for a while, shivering violently. Tybalt's hand rubbed my back, careful not to touch the cuts and bruises.

I had let him do it again. After all those times I'd told myself I wouldn't. But I couldn't allow him to tell Father about my sexuality. These bruises would heal; being be-headed (or burned alive) would not.

Tybalt was being surprisingly kind and gentle with me, caring almost. It was unlike him, so I wondered how awful of a state he had found me in. What had I looked like when he found me trembling on a dirty bed, covered in my own blood and other liquids?

When I stopped, I fell against the wall below the window, sliding until I stopped. Tybalt's form crouched beside me, looked still and restlessly useless. He then asked a question that I most definitely would never pin to his personality. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, God," I groaned harshly, "I must have looked like death itself when you found me for you to be so kind."

His mouth pressed into a firm line, his jaw working. I didn't think he was mad at me for snapping at him, I think he was just processing what he should do. Obviously, he was not used to being so helpful to someone he didn't like. There was that night he held me to him, but that was to shut me up and get me to calm down. And right after that, he threw me off anyway.

I had _moaned his name. _I don't even remember the dream, that's what was sad. I tried not to think of it.

"You were bleeding. A lot." He started. "And . . ."

"I was naked?" I coughed a laugh, "Yes, well . . . I know I was a lovely sight, Prince of Cats, but I was not nude by my own will."

He looked to the side, probably out at the window. Soft air brushed in and tickled my neck with my hair. It was still the same day, it seemed, just later. "You were." He dipped his head down, "But you were beaten and hurt. What happened?"

I wasn't about to say a word about Paris. That would . . . urg, not to Tybalt. I clenched my fists, trying to make my hands move. They worked, but the bite marks and rough kiss bruises lingered everywhere. I could see some red spots up and down my arms, on my legs (mostly my thighs) from where he had suckled my skin.

"I was forced into-," I could finish, I didn't want to.

"You were forced into making love?" He whispered for me. I wasn't sure what he looked like right now, because I had my eyes closed, but his voice was so deep that I couldn't tell how he felt.

I kept my mouth shut, letting the wind hit me softly. The clothes I bore currently were a little too big for my small frame, sewn for someone with more muscles than he could count. They must have been Tybalt's, for they smelled like him and had a button or two missing. Yes, they were Tybalt's.

As quickly as I let out a breath, I was being picked up in a bridal-style fashion. This was four times that he had taken me by surprise, whether it be pinning me to the floor, saving me from falling off a bookshelf, pulling me into his lap, or this right now, it always excited me to think whose arms I resided in.

"T-Tybalt!" I hiss, in pain from the rape. He, strangely and uncharacteristically, held my head to his chest with one large hand, his thumb sitting calmly on my cheek.

"I cleaned you up, but you're in a lot of pain. You shouldn't be moving anywhere. Since you are clean, you should be comfortable staying here for the rest of the day; maybe the night if you still don't feel well."

Tybalt just confessed to cleaning me up, while I was naked at that; he was caring for my wellbeing.

He just offered for me to stay in his home, as if we were never enemies

He just offered I stay the night.

He placed me down on the bed once more, not tucking me in or anything, just laying me down. The dark-haired man then proceeded to walk to the other end of the room, snatch up a book from his desk, and sit down in an office-like chair.

I, surrounded by white sheets, white clothes, white pillows, felt so very clean and warm and . . . s_afe. _In the presence of Tybalt, I felt safe. I felt he could protect me from just about anything, even the devil Paris. He had been my savior today, when I could have died of the loss of blood.

I felt at home, like I belonged here in his room with him. I, after I recover, might sneak in here every now and then to pester him. Just for the fun of it and to be warm for just a little longer. Tybalt was always so warm, even though he seemed cold and harsh. His skin was always so warm, despite his freezing eyes.

And now, in moments like these, were his head was tilted to read his book, the brown locks curling to tough his forehead, the way his eyes were half-lidded, dark lashes blinking every so often . . .

I felt safe. And I adored it here.

Cuddling into the sheets, I took the pillow that most smelled like him and squeezed it to me. I wasn't sure if he saw, but I wasn't about to let go it.

I wondered on what I would do if Tybalt ever found out I was in love with him.

I was, very much so, in love with him. I knew it as I took in his scent, the smell of his skin radiating from the fabric. I was in love with him and it was wrong and he'd probably personally kill me if he ever found out. Surely, though, if I just stayed one night . . . just to see him sleep . . . that wouldn't be so bad?

**oOo**

"Are you still hurting?" His voice was so sweet to me now, caring despite his instincts. I fought the urge to smile, to show how much I loved to hear him speak.

"I think I can walk." I mumble, trying to get out of bed. I place a wary foot to the ground, his eyes on me from a foot or so away. I over exaggerated the stumbling on purpose, skilled with lying and acting.

"I think not," He chuckled softly. I gave him a fake annoyed face. He had been ready to catch me, so he did, pushing me to sit on the bed again. He looked down at me from his standing position, thinking. After a moment or so passed without anything said, I sighed. "I can find a way home, if you don't have room here."

"It's not that I don't have room . . ." Tybalt mused, "It's that if I take you anywhere else, you're bound to be discovered by maids who have to clean. However, my page and my servants know not to disturb me in the mornings and won't come in here. The only place you'd be able to sleep would be in here."

"That's not as bad as you make it out to be. I'm sure I could find a place on the floor."

"With those bites and marks all over you? You'll get an infection. Not to mention it gets cold in here. If you sleep in here, you'll be sleeping in the bed. With me."

I held back a grin. "I suppose that should be alright until morn. As long as you promise not to throw me out of bed if I start sleep-talking." I allow a smirk now, covering the thrill inside.

His frown twitches as he says, "As long as you promise not to sleep-talk."

Soon, he was blowing out the candle lights, making the room darker and darker. When the only light was the moon shining through the open windows, he snuggled into bed with me. For a moment, he just got comfortable while I stayed paralyzed.

Hopefully, with him here, I would dream those unsatisfied dreams

Then, he said in the dark, "Who did it?"

I felt my heart clench, "What?"

"Who raped you?"

"I don't know, it was dark and I was hit upside the head . . . I couldn't make out their face."

I could hear the impatience slip in his voice, "You and I both know that's a lie, Mercutio. Who was it?"

"I don't know!" I breathe, trying to keep calm. Paris's gloating face echoed in my mind, his tongue stroking my cheek, his hands caressing the most sensitive areas.

"Wrong," He sighed, "You got the question wrong. I saw County Paris leaving the cottage just before I went in."

My panic rose to a dramatically alarming level. He had seen Paris? Why had it taken him so long to say this? Was he testing me to see if I would tell him? If I was afraid to rat on Paris? Clever cat, clever.

"Ah," was all I said.

"Why wouldn't you just say that?"

"He threatens with very . . . disturbing facts."

"Your sexuality?" He guessed. I made a sad humming sound.

"Yes, he threatened to tell Father."

"So, in order to prevent that . . . you . . .?" Again, he guessed. And he guessed right.

"That's right," I muttered flatly.

All was quiet for a while. I listened to his steady breathing, only ten inches away, his heat warming me from even that distance. I pictured how hot that heat would be on my lips, under my fingers, between my legs.

I shivered with anticipation.

"Well, I almost chased him down and killed him. If that makes you feel any better."

Eyes wide open, I turned my head to look at him in the pale moonlight. His skin looked blue, a silhouette of his face. His eyes glowed, looking at the ceiling.

"Why would you want to do that?"

He gave me a pitiful, depressed little laugh. "You . . . you just had to _see_ the look in your _eyes. _God, I thought I wouldn't be able to save you." He paused, taking a deep breath. My heart pounded in my chest, my ears heating a little at the thought.

"Tybalt . . ."

"You didn't deserve that kind of intercourse, the painful ruthless kind. You're not that kind of man, seriously. He's related to you, after all. Disgusting . . . the fact that he's a man isn't half as bad as him being your kinsman. Mercutio, you just . . . you just looked so, so hurt. The look on your face . . . I couldn't . . ." the agony in his voice pained me.

He stopped, swallowing. I could feel my heart ramming against my chest, begging to spill its secrets. He seemed to be spilling his own, as hidden as they were. His words portrayed little; it was the way he spoke them that really told me. He cared. More than he should. More than a friendly way.

"Tybalt."

He turned his head and we made eye contact.

Just this once, the Clown Outcast of Verona would capture that sleek Prince of Cats. And if I failed, then this jester would remain solemn for all eternity. Either way, I propped myself on my elbow, slowly lifted my hand to touch his cheek, and craned my neck in for a kiss that would seal both of our fates.

**oOo**


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay . . . now for the real warning. Contains sexual content ****in detail****. Just . . . watch out, okay? More intense than the Paris/Mercutio scene, alright? Just thought I'd warn you first. **

**:3**

**Just wanted to say this too: Tybalt and Mercutio are kinda a weird pair lol. Not many people want to see them as a couple. But by watching them and reading their actions, you learn that fate really is just a misfortunate ordeal. I doubt Tybalt meant to kill Mercutio, his invitation to a brawl had never been for him after all. Mercutio . . . not so sure if he'd be on top or bottom in a sexual sense. It's fun to picture him on bottom, but . . . ~evil perv smile~ he's too friggin mischievous to stay there long. **

**So yes. TybaltxMercutio forever. **

**Why?**

**Because love is stronger when it blooms from past hate. It's a proven fact. **

**~qualls1~**

**TYBALT'S POV**

**oOo**

CHAPTER 8

**oOo**

His lips touched mine unexpectedly. At first, I yanked back, disconnecting us automatically. As my startled eyes looked into his glowing blue ones, I wracked my brain for something to say. My mouth opened, and I thought I had my mind wrapped around a good curse word, a few choice sentences, and a kick somewhere tender . . . however, my mouth opened to say this when my whole body betrayed my common sense and reached to pull him into another kiss.

It was an awkwardly soft kiss, too light to even feel yet. But, being who he was, Mercutio deepened it by holding my head up by my jaws.

_Stop don't do this_

_It's not right, you know it's not_

_You should stop it all right now_

_This is Mercutio Escalus for the love of all that's good and pure!_

I was losing to those lips, the taste of mint and something sweet. I'd never thought he'd taste sweet and minty at the same time . . . hot and cold all at once, spice and ice. God, he tasted so good . . .

I was slipping from my common sense, my ideals of rights and wrong were disappearing in my instincts. I was the kind of man that would easily lose to his thirst for a fight; even this kind of fight. I knew I should have pushed him away. We were both males; both men. But I couldn't stop.

In fact, I gave in to my inner animal.

One hand snaked around his waist, yanking him to be on top of my body, the other found the back of his head, tangling its fingers into the blonde.

His eyes grew wide, the blue shining and glistening with tears from the pain in his hips. I wasn't trying to be gentle, and I noted that. My grip on his waist softened and he relaxed into my form. For air, I let him go. I needed to clear my head anyway.

"What are we doing?" I asked him quietly, shaky almost.

He had the most blank, straight face I've ever seen on him before. Did he even have anything to say?

Surprising even myself, I chuckled and kissed him delicately. "Have I found a way to shut you up?"

A smile spread across his face, making me mirror him. Soon, we were back to our furious kisses, crushing each other into pillows. It was he who slid his tongue into my mouth first. I grunted in a pleasant way, unsure of what to do. But he lead me around and I was soon getting good at it.

I hadn't been expecting the moan that came out of his mouth when I sucked on his tongue. It scared me a little, for I thought the maids might wake up. To lessen the sound, I went back to pressing my mouth to his, tonguing and touching everything in the wet cavern. There was a gap where one of his teeth should have been, where I had punched him in the face a couple months back. Before things were so abnormal like this. My hands trailed down his scratch scar, tickling him. He twitched under the strokes, muffling laughs into our kiss.

It was I who gasped when his hand slipped into my shirt, tweaking and pinching until I mumbled his name, flipping us until I was atop him. There, straddling him, I took a look at him.

Blonde hair sprawled on the pillow (MY pillow), eyes half close in his love-drunken state, breathing heavy from the rolling around and kissing . . . it was all mine now. I took one of his hands softly, never leaving his eyes, and brought it up to my lips to kiss his knuckles, like I would a lady. His brow furrowed in failed annoyance. He was enjoying this, enjoying all of it, whether or not he would admit it.

"Don't play with me, Tybalt. I'm serious."

"You shouldn't complain when I don't take you serious. You never act serious."

His eyes gleamed with frustration, "Tybalt, I am. I really do love-,"

I bit his knuckle, slightly. It couldn't have hurt, but it made him go quiet. "I know, fool. If I wasn't sure of what I was doing, I would have let it go this far." It was true, if I had really wanted him off of me, if I had really wanted his thighs removed from around mine, I would have forced him off. I was plenty stronger.

And I fully planned on showing him just how strong I was tonight.

"I really do love you."

"Do you now?"

"I do, Prince of cats. I didn't think it was real either. But I'm not as foolish as you think I am."

I placed his hand on the back of my neck and he raised his other to meet it. "I don't just want to say I love you," I whispered, playing with the hem of his shirt. "I want to show you."

I knew he was sore and had already been assaulted that day sexually. But I don't think he much minded at that moment. He used his hands to pull himself up, thus pulling me down to meet his lips. This was wrong, but it felt perfectly normal. I had not expected my night to turn out like this, no, but it didn't really matter to me right now. All that mattered was Mercutio's hand sneaking its way into my trousers, pulling them down just enough to expose my hips bones. "Promise me something, Clown." I say into his lips.

He tilts his head and lines soft, lingering, kisses around my mouth. "What would that be, Prince of Cats?"

"No regrets. Not tomorrow morning, or the day after that. No regrets. If things don't work, they don't."

He stilled at that, pulling to where he was looking at me. "Fool," He said, "If I didn't think it would work out, I wouldn't have wasted my time falling in love with your hot-headed ass."

I laughed, causing him to do the same, as I leaned down to kiss his neck. "No regrets."

"None."

And so, I pulled his shirt over his head and kissed every little bruise that Paris had left. He flinched, but if he had wanted me to cease, I would have immediately. "Mercutio," I whisper into his stomach, resting my chin. He had his hand cast over his eyes, breathing hard, waiting for me to stop teasing his skin.

"Hm?" It was more like an exasperated moan.

I grin, plotting just how I was going to go about this.

"I'm going to want you to talk dirty to me."

Automatically, I can feel his skin heat and he squirms, "Tybalt, you really are perverted. I figured you would be."

"Have you imagined us doing this?" I ask while sliding his trousers down his legs. Warm skin greets my chest as I kiss his left hip bone. He bucks into the touch and I gasp, turned on by even such a small gesture.

I get a grin from him when I look up. "Yes, actually, I have. So many times . . ." the grin widens as I blush.

"Describe some of the things I've done to you." I order as I wiggled farther down to meet his member. I kiss along his thighs, avoiding what he wanted me to go for. "Tybalt," He groans, wanting more than I can fathom.

I stopped just above it, breathing through my mouth on purpose, the hot breath arousing him. He wails softly, then grunts through his teeth, "_I imagine you doing THAT for an example._" He mutters this, but I still don't do anything.

"In your dreams, do I suck-,"

"Yes." He spits quickly. Is he embarrassed? I smile when I see his face, disgruntled and lust filled. "Yes, actually, you do a lot of that. Please, don't play with me anymore."

I dip my head down and lick, getting a very loud moan from him, his hips bucking to meet my mouth. He screams my name hoarsely, not loud or strong enough to wake someone. I loved to see him like that, so much that I abandoned my teasing and lifted his knees to make them coil around my hips.

"T-Tybalt . . ." He murmurs when I lean down near his face to get a better angle. I kiss him impatiently making sure to show him I love him so much. I wanted to hurry and begin our love making, but thinking about loving him paused me for a moment. I take him in my arms, hugging him and snuggling my face into his neck. "Mercutio." I say. I know what I'm saying. I really do. And I don't mind it one bit.

"I love you."

His breath shakes a little, his hands grip me in our embrace. "Fool." He laughs almost like he wants to cry. "We both are fools. But Prince of Cats, I don't care."

"It won't be easy, love." I say, laying my forehead on his. He looks up at me and I see that man on the streets of Verona, laughing and sprouting cat jokes. I see the man that I've punched, stabbed at, kicked down . . . and I feel so bad. I wouldn't imagine that now. So I say this, hoping for him to turn the whole thing down. Hopefully we won't have to go through pain . . . if we just turn each other away-

"I know. But, I think we can do it. We can pretend to hate each other, just as long as we both know the truth, right?" He suggests, smiling foolishly. "Ah, Benvolio would be so jealous . . ."

I give him an astounded look, "Is he homose-?"

"Nope." He laughs at his trick and I growl, squeezing him to me, burying my head into his neck again.

Ten seconds pass, slowly.

"I won't do this without your permission." I say, hoisting myself up onto my palms. He lays below me, eyes open and looking up at me; my face, not my body, not the lust.

"Do you even have to ask?"

I get onto my elbows, where my lips are on his ear, and I thrust. His fingers gripped my back, clawing the skin. The pain from Paris's assault must sting like hell, but he doesn't make any move to stop me. A tear slinks down his face and I use my thumb to brush it away. "It'll be over soon, love." I say.

And almost as soon as the words left my mouth, his face took over a look of ecstasy, his hips and back curved up to meet me. I let out a breath and begin to thrust slowly at first, pacing myself. He was so damn tight . . . My breath began to pick up speed with my thrusting as I got more and more aroused. His moans and wails of pleasure had to be muffled by my pillow, for we could not alert anyone.

Not a soul could see this love; which was sad in a sense. It was such a lovely thing, sprung from hatred.

"Mercutio!" I yelp when he claws my back. His face is red with blush, but he manages the most adorably sad face. "Sorry . . ." He yelps between thrusts. I could feel his quivering thighs around my waist, feel how excited he was against my stomach, feel the warm liquid running down both of our legs.

We

Were

So

Close

To-

He came first, growling a moan into my pillow, muffling it the best he could. It felt so amazing, the warmth of the release hitting my abdomen and running down my legs. The gush of it all made me release as well, my own back curving as a strained moan escaped my lips. I hoped the maids hadn't heard, for it was hard to endure.

Mercutio's eyes were wide at my wail of pleasure, terror gleaming at the fear of being discovered. We froze like that for a moment or two, waiting. No one came though, so after the long session of sex, I collapsed beside him, pulling him into me. His hands folded up against my chest, fingers making circles where they were placed. A small, very satisfied smile was on his face, mischievous and plotting.

"Hmph!" I grunted, "You didn't talk dirty to me."

"I'll make up for that. I plan on topping next time."

"You can try, Clown, but I'm stronger."

"I'm faster." His smile was intensified with his fingers pinching a . . . very sensitive . . . area . . . on my chest. I yelped, blushing madly.

The soiled sheets rustled around us as our legs intertwined, my hands stroking up and down his back.

I kissed his forehead, which in return earned a kiss on the chin from him. "Good night." He sighed, exhausted. His face resting into my chest was probably the best feeling in the world.

This was all so wrong. The stars would hate us forever, probably curse us. But any kind of punishment meant nothing to me, as long as he didn't suffer alone. I'd be there next to him to comfort him, no matter what, after all.

_At that moment. I had been wrong. The punishment we were given, I would have taken alone. If only he could have been spared . . . but no. When fate is dared, fate can lead to the worst tragedies._

_Such as I, killing my beloved Mercutio. Stabbing him in the heart, the only one that would ever beat for me._

**oOo**

**No, this is not the last chapter :) The next won't be either, I don't think. If it is, sorry :\ I think I still have a lot of fluff love to cap on. Like, alone time with them while they are in love. So the last chappy won't be done for at least four more chapters. (at most)**

**So, R&R. I think there was too much dialogue. Maybe that's cuz I was too shy to actually . . . um . . . yea. I think I did good for my first 'M' fanfic :) **


	10. Chapter 10

**MERCUTIO'S POV**

**oOo **

CHAPTER 9

**oOo**

I woke up the next morning, alone. At first, I panicked, thinking last night was just a dream. But I soon realized that my legs were sticky and the sheets were too. Not to mention I was in Tybalt's bed in Tybalt's room.

I sat up, looking around. He was sitting in the desk chair again, reading. He and Benvolio . . . always always ALWAYS reading. I sighed and he heard, looking up at me. "Is that book more interesting than I am?" I smirked.

He mirrored my face. "Depends."

"On?"

"Whether or not your awake or not." He closed the book, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Before making a comment, I looked under the sheets to see I was still naked.

"Well I'm awake now," I began, "And I need clothes."

"Hm. I stole them and hid them while you were asleep. I thought it would be funny." His eyes gleamed and the grin grew. My eyes narrowed and I looked around the room quickly.

"WHERE did you hide them?"

He laughed, standing from his position in the chair, only to move it directly in front of the bed. "It wouldn't be hiding them if I told you where they were. I want you to get up and go find them."

"But I'm naked."

"Yes. Yes you are."

A string of awkward silence filled the room. "I am NOT going to walk around the room nude trying to find my clothes while you watch!" I hissed, "That's just perverted."

His grin grew and he tugged at the blankets. "Get up and start looking or I'll pull the sheets off and leave you there." To this, I gripped the sheets. But sadly he was stronger and yanked them right out of my hands.

I gasped, relieved when the blanket came to a stop just before it showed my lower region. "You basta-,"

"Go find your clothes."

I growled, slinging the covers back, but taking a pillow with me to hide myself just a little. As I walked to his closet to find new clothes, he gave me a frown, rushing up from his chair to follow me. Eyes wide, I ran into the closet, knowing what he was going for. "No! It's mine! This isn't fair! T-Tybalt! You aren't being fair!" I was laughing now with him.

He closed the closet door behind us, kissing me. But I refused to drop the pillow from around my waist.

"Mercutio," he whispered against my lips, "You're so stupid."

I glared sharply.

This made him smile, sending sparks up my stomach. "You know I mean perfect . . ."

I couldn't quite contain my grin. "You've hurt my feelings."

He grabbed for my hands and I thought he was going for the pillow, but he wasn't. He took one of my hands and held it, wanting the other. I would not let go of my pillow.

"It's nothing I haven't seen, Mercutio. Let go of the pillow."

I blush, stubborn. "No, you can just hold one hand and be fine. I need some clothes-,"

"You can have clothes in a minute. I'm not going to have sex with you right now, it's too early."

So I begrudgingly let him take my other hand, the pillow falling to the ground. He pressed his body into mine, leading us to the wall. There, he kissed my cheek, letting his lips stay there until I moved my face to touch his lips.

He wasn't touching me, just holding my hands, but his lips were enough to arouse me. It was a wanting, burning feeling I had; to be as close to him as possible. Clothes were in the way most of the time, other times would be our friends, other times would be around family. There would be things cutting between us. A lot.

So?

I let him slide his tongue into my mouth, my hands burying into his hair. He chuckles into my mouth, hoisting my legs up around waist so he can hold me against the wall. My rear hurt like no one's business because of not one but TWO male on male intercourses, but I tried to ignore that and focus on the way his hands felt in mine.

oOo

After I was dressed and decent, we headed off to the library. I had to sneak out his window, but he helped me down to the best branch. Still aching, he and I both were worried about me falling. But I made it down okay, stumbling a little.

He met up with me in the square, both of us having to take separate routes. But it was okay because by the time we reached the mansion and the library, we were together again, against a shelf, laying light kisses on each other's lips. We had work to do, so we did work a lot. We worked faster than normal, actually.

At last, we were done for that day. And it was still pretty early in the morning. Normally, we would have our daily duels now. But we both fonud it more suitable to just enjoy each other's company. He let me sit in his lap as he read a book. My face rested in the crook of his neck, my breath making him shiver every now and then. It took him twice as long as normal to turn the page for he had to re-read.

"Am I making you lose your concentration, Prince of Cats?" I asked, snickering.

He grunted, "As long as you don't start something you definitely can't finish, I'm fine."

"Oh-ho-ho! What's that mean?"

"That if you start kissing me passionately, I'm fully prepared to take you . . . in this chair."

My eyes widened to that and excitement ran through me. "Fun-fun~"

We were joking around; there was no way we could have another session of intercourse. We were both far too tired. So, I allowed myself to snooze quietly in his arms as he read out loud, the words making his chest lift and fall.

When the door to the library opened, there was no rush to get up. He simply helped me to my feet, sitting back down after I went to the other chair. It was cold without him against me, I could have whined a little about it, if not for the servant.

"Sir Mercutio?" He asked after a pause. I looked up at him and Tybalt turned his head to do the same.

"Yes?" I asked him, shifting in my chair. Tybalt had turned back around, as if he was resuming his reading. However, he was staring at me from under his long bangs, an eyebrow raised in waiting.

"Lady Katrina is here to see you."

My face fell, my heart thrumming with panic. Tybalt clearly did not like this, for his grip on the book tightened some and he looked away, eyes downcast. I feared the worst as I stood, and unknowingly to the servant brushed my hand up Tybalt's jaw.

He leaned into the touch, kissing my fingers, only to stare at me as I departed.

In the main hall, Katrina stood talking with my father and uncle, her head bobbing for every question. Father, upon seeing me, signaled for me to come closer to their huddle. I did so unwillingly, containing the urge to run back upstairs.

"Ah, Mercutio." Uncle said, "There you are. We were just discussing the wedding date."

"Oh?" I asked. The wedding . . . I didn't want to get married, even more so now. We were scheduled to wait a couple more months . . .

"We're moving it up to next week now!" Father smiled proudly at his change of plans. My face paled, my eyes widened just a little and a small portion of my heart fell off. No . . . no, no, it can't happen. I feel my jaw tighten and I know what 'Mercutio' would say in some other situation. But the Mercutio I am right now . . . is obedient and must obey.

The inner me, the real me, wants to speak up and say what he thinks. That is the Mercutio I want to always be. But I cannot.

My mouth opens; it's time for this puppet to sing.

"I see. That sounds appropriate."

"Wonderful!" Uncle says, not smiling. He turns to the servant, "Run upstairs and tell Tybalt that Mercutio will not be back for the day. He is going on a date with his fiancé."

Oh, God. Tybalt, I'm so sorry. I watch the servant walk off and dread the thoughts that might rise in Tybalt's mind when he hears the news. He might be angry, I wouldn't doubt that one bit, or he could incredibly disappointed. My biggest fear was that Tybalt would forget out our love all together, saying it was too much to handle.

**oOo**

"Tell me about yourself."

"There's not much to tell." _Lie. _

"Oh? Well, your uncle tells me that you're a respectable young man." _Lie._

"I suppose you could say that. But I'm not so certain. I'm quite the flirter." _Truth. With the opposite sex._

Katrina and I were walking out in the garden, side by side, a good arm's length apart. To my most recent comment, she glanced up with a stricken look. "You are?"

"Oh yes," Destroy their plans, it's all about that. "Very much so. You, being one, know how women are. Ha, very pushy and consistent . . . but I suppose I don't mind that much, heh." While saying this, I couldn't help but think of Tybalt pinning me to a wall, my legs wrapped around him.

But to my disappointment, Katrina smiled and giggled. "You're quite the joker. Just like your uncle told me."

I sighed.

**oOo**

"Tell me how it went."

"There's not much to tell." _Truth. _

"Oh? Well, your servant tells me you'll be marrying this girl in a week's time." _Truth._

"I suppose you could say that. But I'm not so certain. I will refuse to." _Lie. You'll be forced to._

We were laying in my bed, my body on top of his with no room to spare. His lips were pressed to the skin beneath my ear, my fingers playing with his hair. To my most recent comment, he turned to kiss the skin. "You will?"

"Oh yes," Being with him, it's all about that. "I'm not about to give you up. Some pretty girl will court with you and I'll be saddened. Besides, can you really picture being with anyone else? . . . I seriously can't."

To my delight, Tybalt smiled and chuckled, "You're quite the romancer. I love you."

I smiled.

**oOo**

**:D the last two extracts were my favorite to write (other than the pillow scene). If you didn't notice, I compared Mercutio and Katrina's 'relationship' with Mercutio and Tybalt's love. Yea, which one do you think is more real? ^_^ thank chu. **


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